Eclipse
by Lithey
Summary: (KenxOmi, iffy Aya+Yohji) Turn around, bright eyes.
1. never coming around

  


  


  


  
1: _Every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you're never coming around..._

  


  


  


_Carefully... Carefully..._

  
"Ow!" 

  
_Ah, horse shit._

  
For the kajillionth time in my flower arrangement career, I cursed the masses of romantics who simply had to favor roses among the other, perfectly fine, thorn-less flowers. 

  
"Ffft. And those so-called chivalrous guys complain about over-charging. Well, if you were so damn chivalrous, you should try doing it yourself and not paying us to do it..." 

  
Yes. And for the gigakajillionth time in my life, I was talking to myself. Gigakajillionth, in case anyone is wondering, is an example of my flexibility in order to compensate my inability to express myself. See, there are some advantages to talking to yourself. For one thing, you can freely use gigakajillionth and the rest of your inventive parlance without having to explain yourself to befuddled, if not amused, faces. 

  
Another thing is, you can be completely honest. There is no-holds-barred truth. Although, sometimes, even that doesn't count as an advantage. 

  
Anyway, whatever the case may be, there's really only one disadvantage that genuinely mattered. That after a while, it just gets unbearably lonely. I try not to listen too much to my dependency on human interaction, but it's screaming, always screaming, too loud to go unnoticed. Like a confused, chaotic cry of a man trying to be heard in his frigid stalactatic cave, desperately looking for warmth. I'm not making sense, but you must realize that I barely try to. It's hard enough trying to make sense of the world, especially all alone. 

  
Oh well. Back to the old flower arrangement. 

  
I guess I should've been paying more attention to it in the first place. But the clock seemed more fascinating, making me want to torture myself and count the minutes until someone came along and divert me from my depression-prone thoughts. At this point, or at usually any given time, any kind of distraction was welcome. 

  
That was supposed to be Aya's job today, or his purpose or something. I suppose he wasn't in the mood to show up and get pricked by a damn plant. _Well, to his credit, I believe that his absences are getting rarer and rarer. _

  
...Gradually. 

  
I winced as I sucked my finger, filling my tongue with a tangy taste. 

  
_Very gradually._

  
I'm not entirely sure when it happened, but I started considering Aya as a real friend. You know, the kind you'd bring to a lame movie marathon just to be able to hang out with him (if he were anyone else but Aya). It gets a bit tiring though, calculating the dynamics of our friendship. It doesn't get easier considering he never lets down his guard in reminding you that you're not privy to his thoughts. But there's something beneath the apathy, the coldness, that I just know. In that our camaraderie was something we never spoke of, but always, always knew existed. There was something between us that we didn't acknowledge, because we didn't have to, and didn't act upon unless an extreme situation gave us an excuse to. It was actually very similar to most of my friendships back in J-League. Of course, I doubt any of them could ever hope to match Aya's level of complexity and enigma. 

  
"Hey, Kenken," Yohji said amiably as he entered and decided to watch me lose blood over a single rose. "Sucking your green thumb, I see," he says with an unforced smile. 

  
He was familiar with this scene (everyone was) and never grew tired of thinking up often obscure jokes to ridicule me. "Shut up. And go away, do something productive." Apparently, productivity for him was laying his elbows on my table and watching intently as I try not to screw up. "Okay, let's define _productive_..." My patience was already halfway gone. 

  
"Well, here's the deal. You do that, I watch, I learn. Great achievements for everybody!" 

  
I resorted to an old, rarely effective technique. _ 1... 2... 3... Ignoring ridiculous-haired man hovering over me and my bloody torture chamber... 4... 5..._ Blast off. "_Just stop watching, dammit!_" 

  
Yohji got up, turning his nose up in the air. "Touuuucheeee. You're worse than a menstruating girl, and they bleed for nearly one week straight..." 

  
It was easier to ignore him as I calmed down. I didn't regret shouting at him -- I rarely do. If I didn't, either it would form some confused tension between us, or I would've taken it to a physical level. 

  
It's not like I don't like Yohji -- I do. A lot. It's just that he tends to infuriate me, and almost always intentionally, no less. I know that he's doing this to keep us both sane. But, you see, I'm not always that rational. Hey, it's normal for friends to fight. Usually they even end up better friends once the truce has commenced. Yohji and I, a little different from normal, though. Sometimes I feel that we become better friends while the actual bickering is happening. It could be some security thing, or the result of the fact that we both are talentless in expressing ourselves, especially in terms of affection. But we both know what we mean to each other. I never understood it, and have only recently come to get used to it, how it's all natural. 

  
Could've been some obscure deity having mercy on me, but Omi finally came home from school. Of course, along with him came a horde of other high school girls coming to threaten our sanity. But as Omi came in, a brilliant smile on his face, I knew I could endure anything. 

  
Omi was easily my favorite. I don't want to assume anything, but I don't think anyone would accuse me of blasphemy if I say he's Yohji's too, and even Aya's as well. He'd feed us his big blue eyes, and we've got no other choice than to take them in, swallow our pride while we're at it. At those points in time, those eyes would hypnotize us into believing that our only purpose in life was to defend him from the tiniest possibility of sadness. In my case though, the effects of the hypnosis last longer than they probably should. 

  
I felt a little guilty when I realized that I failed to notice the little child that was hanging onto his leg. It was Keichi, one of my students. His mother was there as well, further behind Omi. Keichi reminded me a lot of him -- Omi, I mean -- and even though they look nothing alike, I held on to my theory that they were separated at birth. In my defense, Omi's family tree is out of whack enough for it to be possible. 

  
"I brought him in, Ken. Says he knows you," Omi said, ushering the little boy in front of me. 

  
"Of course he knows me, he's my student," I said, unable to extract my pride from my voice. "What's up, Keichi?" 

  
Keichi played with the hem of his shirt for a while, fidgeting and staring at the floor. He could be deathly shy sometimes, and was probably made timid by Omi and Yohji's presence, not to mention the unruly crowd outside the shop. "Um... I... I was wondering what you wanted for your birthday..." 

  
_Birthday? Oh. _Oh._ Oh! Wasn't it just November the last time I checked? It probably still is..._ "Why, that's so sweet of you to want to give me something. But I don't really need a gift." I went out of the counter and bent to be able to look Keichi in the eye, and held his small shoulders. "I don't need a gift to make me happy, you just made me happy by going all the way here just to ask me that. I'm really glad I have such a great friend." 

  
Keichi blushed like a dutiful mini-Omi. "But... but I really want to get you something." 

  
I smiled at him. "Okay. How about you give me something you made, so I can have something that nobody in the whole world has?" 

  
"B-but, but, what if you don't like it?" 

  
"I could never dislike anything that came from a good friend of mine. I'll cherish it, Keichi, I promise." 

  
Keichi hesitated before wrapping his tiny arms around my neck. "You're the greatest!" He turned to his mom, who was watching with a small smile on her fair face. "I told you he was the greatest, didn't I mom? Aren't I right?" 

  
His mom laughed as Keichi ran to her and attached himself to her leg. "You sure did. Ken, you are a wonderful person," she said with enough sincerity to make me insanely content. 

  
"Ken's great with little children! He loves them, and they adore him!" Omi said, perpetually cheerful. He glanced at me with a friendly grin that I tried too hard not to attempt to memorize. 

  
I replied with my own smile, appreciative, aware of my increasing embarrassment. 

  
"That's right," Yohji interjected from somewhere behind me, "and Omi's living proof." 

  
"_Yohji!_ I am not a little child!" 

  
I was caught between defending Omi as part of my instinct, striking Yohji (which was also an automatic reflex), and fighting down the heat which was aiming to redden my whole face. 

  
All in all, they were pretty successful in distracting me. 


	2. a little bit tired

2: _Every now and then I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears..._

  


  


  


Yohji and I were in the middle of discussing whether ducks had teeth or not, with Yohji constantly asking Aya to support his argument. I forgot how we ended up with this debate, all I know is it begun with Yohji pleading Aya to buy warm gloves for all of us. I remember Aya saying something about gardening gloves, but how we ended up with oral structures of ducks is beyond me. Anyway, that was when Omi had come in, looking far too disheveled to be smiling. 

  
All three of us abandoned what we were doing to further examine him, worry evident in both mine and Yohji's faces, nearly concealed but somehow obvious in Aya's eyes. "Omi, what happened to you?" I asked. 

  
"Ah, it's nothing," he mumbled, walking with the stride of a drunk man. "The school nurse sent me home after the teacher made me go to the clinic. But I feel fine..." 

  
I was angry at myself, which was really an escape from my sickeningly overbearing concern for him. I made sure, every day, to observe and know what was going on with Omi -- a hobby, you might say. And yet, somehow my scrutiny managed to miss something like this? I mean, for God's sakes, the weather was getting increasingly worse, and I still allowed him to go outside in shorts?! I admonished myself mercilessly, vowing to never let this happen again. Ever... 

  
I put an arm around him, leading him to his room. He was too unaware of his surroundings to protest, I noted gratefully. 

  
Aya and Yohji hadn't followed, knowing my proclivity towards protectiveness whenever Omi was concerned. I sat him down firmly, trying to look as if my worry for him wasn't commandeering my entire brain and its every function. "Omi, you're going to stay here and get better, okay? That's not negotiable." I realize that nothing's ever not negotiable when you're dealing with Omi. As it was, I was already sinking into his liquid eyes, swimming and diving into azurite pools, drinking them. They were dimmed, slightly, but still very much capable of stealing any coherent thought that might've entered my mind. 

  
I actually had to dig my nails deep into my palms in order to pull myself away from his imploring gaze. I was determined not to give into him, and do what was best for him. "No," I replied to his unasked question. 

  
"But Ken! I have so much homework to do!" 

  
I sighed. "Omi, you're bordering on creepy already. You idiot. You know you're intelligent, and can easily do better than half your class without so much as opening a book." 

  
Omi blushed, I think. It was hard to distinguish, considering his fever already had him all red. "It doesn't matter if I can be smart or not, I still need to accomplish my assignments. I have to maintain my grades." 

  
"So do it tomorrow," I replied, busying myself by looking for a thermometer. 

  
"Wh-?! Ken, you are not making me stay here tomorrow. I'm fine as it is, those nurses-" 

  
I sat beside him, thermometer on one hand, the back of his head on the other. I stuck it in his mouth as gently as possible, which was probably not very gently at all. "Sorry," I said, genuinely contrite. I let go of his head and stroked his hair once as my penance and offered him a small smile. "Omi, it's just two days before the weekend anyway. Why jeopardize your health for a few subjects?" 

  
Omi actually started to reply, so I put a finger on his lips. "Don't talk, we're taking your temperature." Omi had an adorable expression of helplessness on his face, then he resigned with an exasperated glare, which turned out kinda cute as well. I grinned for my small triumph. "It won't be so bad, you know, an extended weekend plus actual sympathy from our dear Aya." 

  
We sat quietly for a moment, and it was pleasantly comfortable. That is until he decided to lay his head on my shoulder. It wasn't exactly the first time he did it, but he still managed to elicit an increased heart rate every single time he became affectionate with me. I hoped he couldn't feel my heart pounding ferally against my chest. It was a bit awkward because we were sitting on the edge of his bed, with nothing to lean on. I put my right arm around his back so he could lean on it too. And even with my abnormally beating heart, nothing ever felt so perfect as this did. 

  
Stupidly, as I often am when Omi is near, I had forgotten to check my watch. _Hell, it's surely been longer than 3 minutes._ I took the thermometer and held it against the light, and, well, freaked out. 

  
"Holy fuck! Holy-!" I forgot where I put the thermometer, or if I even put it down. I just moved according to what my panic told me. It told me to half-carry half-drag Omi to where his pillows were (right before realizing that I should've just brought the _pillows_ to _him_), then push his shoulders down onto his bed. 

  
"Oww! Ken?!" Omi exclaimed in irritation. 

  
He tried to get up, only to be pushed back into bed again. "Stay down. Stay down, you are not _allowed_ to move." 

  
"Ken...?" Omi whimpered, irritation being quickly replaced by something very close to fear. 

  
"No, you are not allowed to talk, or to, to breathe heavily, or think too much. No strenuous activities!" 

  
"Ken...?" he repeated, more meekly. 

  
I pulled a chair beside his bed, sat on it and crossed my arms. "I'm going to make sure you fall asleep and I will monitor all the activities that you do from here on out." 

  
"But... I don't want to sleep." 

  
"Well then, stop talking. You'll get tired of doing nothing and eventually fall asleep." 

  
"...Ken, you're scaring me." 

  
"Good, we're even." 

  
Omi had to deliberate on that for a while, but he finally understood what I meant. Hey, I wouldn't have acted so callously towards him if I hadn't found out that he wasn't "just fine". It scared me, to see how unwell he was, and it was worse than my own life being threatened. 

  
He sighed and turned to face me. "I really don't want to sleep." 

  
"It's really not an option." My arms still crossed. 

  
"Can we just talk? Please? It won't be strenuous..." 

  
Well, this time, he didn't even need his eyes to get what he wanted. All he had to do was simply asking for something, and I deliquesced. "I--Alright." My arms went to my lap, ashamed of their earlier position. "I'm sorry, I just. I didn't realize your fever was that bad." 

  
"Why? What was my temperature?" 

  
I shook my head. "No, forget it. All you need to know is you're not going to school tomorrow, because you'll be concentrating on getting better. And just, don't argue with me." 

  
Omi gave me a half-smile as an indication of him obliging to my request. "Alright, if it'd mean so much to you." He reached out towards me and took my hand. His hand was as it always is -- soft and pliant -- only with intensified heat. "But only if you stay with me. Okay?" 

  
My heart is caught in my throat, and I try to ignore the burning in my eyes. "I'll be here as long as you need me." _Dammit, what the hell?!_ My promise made my urge to cry more irrepressible. But I could hold it in. _Why... do I want to cry?_ I had to hold it in. 

  
Omi smiled contentedly and wedged my hand between his cheek and his pillow. "Thanks." 

  
Oh, God. 

  
No. Okay, no, we've been through this... 

  
Okay, fine. You want to do this the hard way? _Fine._

  
Let's try Omi's wonderful equations, those he tries to appear not to be so enrapt with, lest Yohji be moved to torture the poor kid some more. Anyway. Right, here we go. (Note: This would be a great time to remind you why you offer Omi homework help for every damn subject _except_ Math.) 

  
"Hey, do you hear that noise from outside? It sounds like... it sounds like they're remodeling or something," Omi said, his eyes to the door. 

  
"Umm, nope," I replied distractedly, thinking of my mathematical equation. 

  
Anyway. 

  
Given: Ken = male. Omi = male. Ken + Omi = Ken's desire. Prove: Ken = not heterosexual. 

  
"Listen! It's like there's some chaos or something going on outside," Omi said, looking like he was about to jump up any second, but was restraining himself. 

  
Ken and Omi are congruent (gender-wise). Omi belongs to set "male". (subset "effeminate male". Irrelevant.) Ken belongs to set "male". 

  
"Ken, you have to let me check what's going on outside. Or at least you should check it out," Omi said persistently. 

  
Simplify given: Ken + Omi = Ken's desire. Divided by Ken and you get [Omi = desire]. 

  
"I'm sure Aya and Yohji can handle it. It's probably another female riot or something," I assured him. 

  
Heterosexual males' desire = {(female)}. Bisexual = {(female), (male)}. Homosexual male = {(MALE)}. 

  
"But... it wouldn't hurt to check," Omi murmured softly. 

  
Omi is in set "male", and not an element of heterosexual males' desire, therefore Ken = not heterosexual. 

  
When Omi let go of my not heterosexual hand, I found I had less to object to and could do as he asked. I opened the door, and was caught unprepared by something that had dashed in and had caused Omi to scream. 

  


* * *

  


_[[ Author's note: I'm sorry, I didn't like this chapter either. -_- I just felt the need to write it, in gratitude to everyone who sent feedback. I was so overcome with pleasant surprise to see positive reviews. ^_^ Because I was, and still am very much so, insecure with this story. But please feel free to criticize when you feel I need it and when it's helpful. Don't ask for me to "hurry up and get them together" quick, though, as I am quite a slow and somewhat dramatic author. ^_^ Let's be patient, ne? Again, thanks so much! You all motivate me boundlessly. ^_^ ]]_


	3. best of all the years

3: _Every now and then I get a little bit nervous that the best of all the years have gone by..._

  


  


  


Tsukiyono Omi, first member of Weiss Kreuz, is afraid of dogs. 

  
To his defense, Omi insisted (with no modest manifestations of maniacal panic) that it was rushing towards him with incredible speed and its tongue was out, exaggerating his appearance as a large predator. Yohji was the only one who pointed out that the dog was neither large, and certainly not a predator. In fact, "dog" was pretty much a charitable term for it. He was obviously a puppy that was eye-level with most people's ankles. But of course, I didn't feel the need to say this out loud. 

  
Especially when he ran behind me, gripping my shoulders with his half-open mouth inches away from the back of my neck. His face hidden by my left shoulder and eyes mostly shadowed by his long bangs, he hissed shakily, "Wh-What's that doing in here?!" 

  
"O-Omi? You don't... you don't like him?" 

  
I felt his grasp tighten on my shoulders, and at once I knew that he realized to whom that voice belonged to. Sure enough, Keichi appeared behind the doorway, a look of disappointment lurking near his eyes. 

  
"Keichi! Oh, I -- I like him! Of course, yes, I like dogs!" This was confirmed by the way he shrieked when the puppy took one whole step towards our direction. He yanked me back, still using me as a very willing human shield. 

  
"Obviously," Yohji remarked with a very un-concealed chuckle. 

  
Keichi, trusting as he may be, was still a bit confused as to why Omi was shaking pathetically and holding onto me as if I was a bag of garlic and right in front of him was a vampire. Probably a legitimate analogy, if only you tripled the size of the dog's "fangs", turned the homely drool into blood, and kind of just made it grow at least six more feet. "Are you sure? Because, because Risa thought you'd like it." (Risa, female. Older sister of Keichi. 16 or 17 years old, tops, judging from the tone and decibel level of the squeals she produces whenever Omi is around.) "She bought it for you to give as a Christmas present, but then she heard that you were feeling bad and decided to give him to you now." 

  
"Well, that was very -- _eeyaaah!_" Omi decided to go for the 'save yourself' method of doing things, letting go of me and simply running away from the menacing puppy. The canine, of course, instantly took a liking to Omi, following him in a persistent effort to frighten the boy away with all of his shaggy fur and wagging tail. 

  
Now, this was all quite cute, but I'm not sure the present was doing very well at helping Omi get better. "Hey, stop running around so much," I call out helpfully. 

  
"Is Omi playing with the puppy?" Keichi asked me softly, a hopeful smile on his face. 

  
I looked at Omi who was pausing for breath, and then instantly bolting as soon as he found the puppy advancing towards him. "...Yeah." I smile back. Well, the dog seemed to be enjoying himself. 

  
"That's great! I'm so glad Omi likes the puppy!" Keichi rejoiced. "I'm sure it'll mean so much to Risa! It means a lot to me." 

  
And Omi, upon hearing this, decided to quell his phobia. Well, at least try to hide it. In a valiant effort to be brave, he reached his arm out towards the puppy and started reluctantly swiping at the spaces beside it. Uh, yeah, actually, he was trying to pet the little dog. He was just shaking so much that he was missing his initial target -- something quite unlikely considering his Other Employment. In any case, when he finally was successful at lightly brushing the dog's fur, he jumped a few thousand meters from his new animal friend. Realizing that the (lowest level of) contact hadn't caused him to explode or grow a third nostril or anything of that kind, he decided to go for a poke at the puppy in another triumphant foray into his bravery regarding (domesticated) beasts from the animal kingdom. 

  
The puppy appeared to be gratified at even the slightest of Omi's attentions. _So, me and the little creature have something in common._ He responded to Omi's cautious poking by jumping up as if to touch Omi's knees. It looked as if a blur rushed across the room, until Omi ended up clutching my shoulders once again, having seemingly teleported behind me. 

  
"I'm so happy you're getting along!" I doubt Keichi was being sarcastic. I'll stick to charmingly oblivious. "Can I stay here and watch you two play? Pleeeeeease? If Mr. Yohji and Mr. Aya would let me?" 

  
You can call me stupid all you like, and probably have enough evidence to support your case, but I wasn't moronic enough to actually give a chance to Aya or even Yohji to answer. Not only that, but I could practically feel Omi's short-lived bravery unravel with thoughts of having to touch the puppy for longer than five seconds. "I'm sorry, Keichi, but I think Omi has other plans. There's a solar eclipse happening today that he's been wanting to see for quite a while." 

  
I turn to Omi, ready to tell him with my eyes about my impromptu plan. But my words fell meaningless when I caught the look in his eyes, a look not only of gratitude, but also the pleasant surprise in finding out that I still remembered something he told me quite some time ago. He smiles at me, his grip going from tense to thankful. "That's right," he said, turning to Keichi, being the first willing to let go of a heartfelt moment. I felt the immediate loss of not having him look at me with complete abandon for everything else. "I'm sorry, Keichi. Ken promised to accompany me and I really don't want to miss that." He glances at me again with a significant grin. 

  
Ah, so he has found another way to rob me of my more sensible thoughts. By inviting me to go with him, which he more or less did, he sent my heart thundering so strongly against my chest that I was unsure whether I could stand properly without holding onto him. "I-- Yeah. So, well, we're going now." And I hope I didn't sound too eager to have him all to myself. 

  
I blessed Keichi silently for not asking to go with us, which any normal child would've done. Lady Luck was on a roll, she was smiling at me that day. Either that or she was lulling my into a false sense of security as she looked for a rifle. I considered this as I found Aya staring at me with the most unnoticeable glare which would be unreadable to most. I decoded it as concern for Omi, and he was reminding me that I was about to bring Omi out into winter while he was sick. I matched his glare (or at least I'd like to think so. This is Aya after all, and he's far more experienced) with one of my own, one stating my very purpose in life to protect Omi. I saw a slight thawing of frost, something that an untrained eye wouldn't have caught, right before he looked away in seeming disinterest. 

  
Yohji had a few objections, all of which were cheerfully ignored. All he seemed to be worried about was being left puppy-sitting, if that's the appropriate word for it. 

  
I had Omi all bundled up before we left. He was the most multicolored boy I'd ever seen once I was through with him, making sure to wrap him in every single jacket and scarf I could detect in the building. He looked like an overstuffed marshmallow, and you probably don't need to know the kinds of things I imagined thanks to this comparison. Needless to say, they were a tad far from wholesome. 

  
He had arranged some sort of deal with the manager of an apartment that allowed us to get up their roof. I doubt it involved paperwork or bribery of any kind, and solved the mystery by remembering that it was _Omi_ making a deal with someone. He was a manipulative little bastard. His eyes are the worst. They make you think of an absolute absence of darkness, even when you know he's manipulating you, and even when _he_ knows he's manipulating you. Speaking from experience? Obviously. 

  
We sat down on the little tufts of snow. I failed to tell him that I was merely keeping him warm when I put an arm around him and sort of smoldered him into my body, until I could nearly feel him under all the layers of clothing I subjected him to. If I told him that I had but one excuse for holding him, that would've been far worse than a white lie, and I was terrible with those as it was. 

  
I tried not to shatter when he pushed me away to lie down on the cemented roof. In my numbness I didn't feel him tugging on my arm, probably asking me to lie down next to him. He only elicited a response (an "Ow!", to be more precise) when he yanked me down, sending me on a very abrupt meeting with the ground. "Ken! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-!" 

  
"Ah, be quiet, will you?" I grunted mildly, taking one of his arms and pulling him nearer. To my utterly jubilant surprise, he snuggled, _snuggled_ closer, and I felt as if all of his movements were trying to tell me how much he trusted me. I tucked his head under my chin, placing an arm around him, taking advantage of the fact that he wouldn't slap it away. "You're not cold?" I murmured into his hair. I still didn't want to lie and tell him that my only reason for this closeness was purely to keep him warm, but it wouldn't hurt us if I did let him think so. 

  
"I'm warm." He squirmed slightly beside me, trying to get more comfortable. For the first time I was grateful for the folds of clothing between us, else he might have felt just how _okay_ I was in our current position. 

  
We were **cuddling**. There was simply no better word for it. I was bathed in his warmth, in his nimbus, completely awash in his golden heat. Warm, like every adjective, was hardly enough to describe him, and whatever he was allowing me to feel at that moment. I felt like all the world, all the universe, was suddenly sucked between my arms. I was holding the moon in the silver moist of his awed breath, the stars forever settled in melted pools in his eyes, the sun brightly washing always the heady scent of his hair and the intoxicating touch of his skin. 

  
So you'll have to excuse how if I can't seem to focus on some silly old phenomenon, and how I'm desperately trying to listen to him praising celestial movements, when I'm barely able to understand how majestic I was feeling. I didn't even know what wrongness was, all thoughts not pertaining to him was banished from my mind. The only possible bad thing I was able to register was if I were to take Omi for granted. To be able to belittle what his smiles did for me, for everyone. To stop only at acknowledgement in knowing how big his heart was, to be able to care for us and let it be known. _The complete absence of darkness._ That was the only thing I could do wrong, to take him and everything he did, everything he was for granted. 

  
"It's beautiful... I wouldn't have missed it for the world." _Is it done already? That was fast._ Omi then turned completely to me, and just as entirely sagged into me. The intimacy was so divine that it threatened to overwhelm me. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it didn't. 

  
"Me neither. It was wonderful." _Notice how perfectly vague that pronoun is._

  
"Do you think nobody would think twice about the sun if it weren't for these eclipses?" Omi mused in an enchantingly relaxed rhythm. "Maybe the sun likes being hidden, if only for assurance that people will be reminded of it. I'm not saying that I actually think the sun's alive or something, okay? Or that I believe in the whole world having a spirit, which I'm not sure if I do." I got admittedly lost somewhere in his speech, even after years of sticking to his point in the midst of meandering conversations. "_Anyway_. I just think it's nice to have something to remind us to appreciate the sun's beauty. Not everything has that kind of luxury, after all. Right?" 

  
I nodded slightly, liking the feel of my jaw against his soft hair. "I don't think I can rhapsodize about the sun's beauty everyday. But I know what you mean. And we should give proper acknowledgement to whatever deserves it." 

  
Another silence came, allowing me to revel in the sound and feeling of Omi's steady breathing. I wondered how we were ever going to get out of here without me protesting powerfully. 

  
_"I don't think I can rhapsodize about the sun's beauty everyday."_

  
Depends on which sun, really. 

  


* * *

  


_ [[Author's note: I tried to phrase the ending the best way possible, which didn't turn out satisfactory at all. ^_^' I wanted to add stuff about source of light, source of warmth, basically what the whole freakin' galaxy revolves around, yadda yadda yadda... but it seemed anticlimactic. Anyway, I just hope the meaning isn't lost. This was supposed to be one of my favorite chapters, until I lost it and was forced to rewrite it. Then I had to lose it yet again, and consequently, write it all again for the _third wonderful time_. Anyway, I'm already working on the next part, and I'm obviously far from perfection, but hopefully I'm also drifting farther away from complete suckiness. ^_^ ]]_

  


  



	4. the look in your eyes

4: _Every now and then I get a little bit terrified and then I see the look in your eyes..._

  


  


  
I find, not for the first time, that my feelings for Omi have reached a new depth. 

  
I was now officially jealous of Yako. 

  
Yako, you see, is the name of our newly-accepted Golden Retriever. If the name bears too much resemblance to "Yucko", it's purely coincidental. Omi had named him after the four of us (see our initials), which had touched me more deeply than it probably should have. 

  
Anyway, not surprisingly, I found a way to blame Yohji for this. He was the one who relentlessly teased Omi and his puppy phobia. He couldn't seem to run out of kitten-related quips for Omi, much to the latter's chagrin. For a reason I'm afraid I can relate to, Omi's female fan clubs were endeared by this, worsening the boy's embarrassment as well as fueling Yohji's playfulness. 

  
In all honesty, I normally would've followed Yohji's lead. Omi, with all his blushing and lack of actual sense of revenge, was the most perfect victim you could ask for. In a way, I could understand and maybe even excuse Yohji's need to tease him. After all, Yohji wasn't addictively, resiliently, devotedly, inescapably in love with the boy. 

  
Oh, hey, there goes my point. 

  
My point is, Omi had probably gotten frustrated with all the fun being poked at him and decided to let Yako grow on him. And grow on him that wretched little attention-thief did. 

  
It's all Yohji's fault. 

  
Okay, and just this once, it can be Omi's fault, too. That's right, he's to blame for choosing that little mongrel over me! After all, I consider myself more than a freaking good substitute for the puppy. In fact, I've been told countless times that I resemble one. _Hmm... Probably shouldn't be bragging about _that. 

  
I mean, I have that faithful companion look about me, right? I have more than one girl to vouch for that. Plus my eyes are brown, and I can widen them if need be. And I'd have no objections to following him around all day. Hopefully with my tongue not hanging out my mouth or without having to wag my tail, as those tend to be degrading, especially since I don't really have a tail. 

  
In conclusion, I am quite puppy-esque, thank you very much. I happen to think I'm the least "kittenish" of us four, my bugnuks aside. 

  
Actually, I'm just now contemplating on those thoughts, and even to me they don't sound like the most convincing of persuasions. 

  
If only I didn't feel this way, or experience these things. Everyday without him was dusk, a swallowing grayness. Everyday with him was spring, was fresh, was pure, was not gray at all. But when you need him terribly enough, everyday, you're unavoidably with him and without him. It's an awful paradox, seeing everything and nothing in the twin sapphires that claim your breath for awhile, so you can fully concentrate on cursing gods for even letting such unattainable beauty exist. 

  
_Good-bye once more, ever evanescent point._

  
"Hey guys," Omi called, dulcet voice heralding his presence. "Where's Yako?" 

  
That. Damn. Dog. _Again_. 

  
"'S locked up in your room. Must be asleep as he's stopped rapping at the door," Yohji replied tiredly. He seemed to be worn out from sitting on the counter and wearing me and Aya out with as many questions as he could think of, as he had been doing this the whole day. 

  
"What?! I keep telling you guys to let him out, it's not good for him to be locked up like that!" Omi scolded us, like all three of us weren't older than him. 

  
"Ah, don't worry your pretty little head about it," Yohji snorted. He took off his sunglasses, which is usually interpreted as a forerunner for a long, knowledgeable speech meant to enlighten us. "Besides, if we let that walking sugar rush out into the streets, who knows what might happen? He's worse than a time bomb, much more annoying, plus he can deliver himself to whichever victim he so pleases." 

  
Yako, from inside Omi's room, could be heard protesting. 

  
Upon hearing his pet's need for attention, Omi freed himself from any obligation of listening to Yohji's in-depth prophecies. "oh, Omi, did you--" I began, not giving him up without a fight. 

  
"Um, ah, hold on a sec," he said as he practically ran to his room without so much as looking back. 

  
Keeping my grumbling to myself, I noted with much dissatisfaction how many points Yako was leading Ken in my mental win/lose scoresheet. That's right, I couldn't even compete with a non-sentient being. 

  
"Ken, what were you saying?" Omi said, now with Yako in his arms. 

  
"Oh, I was just wondering if you took that Physics test you were giving yourself an ulcer over," I say aloud, inwardly making a triumphant note that Omi was putting Yako down. Aya looked ready to object to unleashing the hellspawn, but remained steadfast to his silence. Meanwhile, I discreetly opened the door slightly when the other three weren't looking, during a brief flash of extreme intelligence. 

  
Omi's eyes, once reminded of academics, took to doubling their size. "That reminds me! I better master the topics by today. Thanks, Ken!" He dashed back to his room without another moment to spare. 

  
"Hey, take the dog with y--" Blink, blink. Count on Yohji, always, for his perception. "Where'd it go?" 

  
Now, at this point, it was almost mechanic the way I went after the dog. I didn't bother telling Yohji that no, I wasn't too crazy about the dog, and it had nothing to do with me, anyway. I was sort of responsible, given the way I had left him with its opportune open door, but I would've gone after him anyway, whatever the case may have been. Something greater than myself took hold of me. 

  
I ran after Yako, a certain set of teary eyes reinforcing itself as an inspirational mental image. I found my rival for Omi's affections running towards me when it saw me, for some strange reason. I grabbed him by his collar and for a split second, his brown eyes were soulful and understanding. 

  
"This is hard enough without you in the picture, you know," I informed him. 

  
Nevertheless, I scooped the little troublemaker up. At one point during my return to the ship, I thought simply, _I can do anything for him, so I do._ You should probably know that I wasn't thinking about Yako. 

  
Omi's door was slightly open and Yako wedged himself between the small entrance once his paws touched the ground. I heard Omi welcoming him in, with a voice that didn't carry the lightness that it had always relentlessly owned. Through the opening, I could see him stretched out in bed, and I couldn't help but feel invited to stare at him. From then onwards, my brain dwelled on the phrase 'Damn, Omi's sexy' and several other variations on the same theme. 

  
"What? Don't look at me like that." For one fear-inspiring second, I was afraid that Omi was actually speaking to me. After further investigation, I found out that Yako was the meant recipient of his request. "I know, I'm supposed to be studying, but nothing could be further from my mind..." 

  
Curious, I waited near the doorway for the continuation of his soliloquy. I should've felt guilty, but after months of fanatically trying to collect as much information as I could about Omi, I can safely say that my conscience has been desensitized in regards to that. 

  
"I know you must be tired of hearing this, but I don't want to be a burden and talk to the others about it." _A burden?_ "It's not that I don't trust them enough, I certainly do. But it might just hurt them if they know I go through it, too. They come to me sometimes, and they let me know of their profound guilt, even when they're pretending to hide it. And there's so much pain, I can feel it almost compressing me, when they're ripping themselves into shreds. That's when I have to knit them back together, which is never a very easy task." I heard a soft, half-hearted chuckle. "It's always been that way. I let them think it doesn't bother me so much, otherwise they'd have a hard time dealing with it, too. I don't want them to fall apart, when something so weak is holding them together." 

  
I was caught between my obligation to protect him, and the truth of not belonging here in the first place. But at least I understood why Omi was investing so much time in Yako. _He thinks we wouldn't want to hear about his pain..._

  
"They have enough problems of their own, they don't need my to deal with my tragedy, huh, Yako?" It seemed his one-way conversation with the puppy was therapeutical. "Let's not complicate their emotions with mine. I shouldn't even impose all this drama on myself... But sometimes... I'm sorry, Yako, I have to talk about this again. It's rising up in my chest, like it sometimes does. This worry, that I'm slowly losing my conscience. What if I stop feeling guilty for killing people? That wouldn't make me strong, that would simply make me less human. Could it happen, _could I get so accustomed to taking human lives?_" 

  
I stood there and burned, being quickly and slowly consumed by my need for him and my need to protect him and my inability to. 

  
"Omi." 

  
He looked up, his desolation streaming down his face. "K-Ken!" 

  
"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to listen." _Liar_. There was a chair preventing me from barging into his room and embracing him tightly until we both burst. That, and my fear of his reaction, something much stronger than furniture. "I'm sorry. But I just wanted you to know... You don't need to tell Yako what you're feeling. You can tell me anything," I said, nearly whispering. "And, I'd listen. I won't judge you. I'm not pressuring you to confide in me or something, to tell me what you don't want to. But, just so you know, I... I'm here for you. If you want me to be." I smiled, despite the cursed gracelessness that always found itself between my words. 

  
It seemed to have turned out okay, as Omi got up and moved the offending chair away. Before I could step into his room or walk away or do _anything_, he wrapped his arms around my neck. I put my hands on his back, returning a hug that had been as awkward as my words, considering the usually easy physical contact we shared. It's just that, this time, there was something so compelling behind it, this not unexceptional feeling. "Thank you." It was him who said that, for the record. 

  
I had said the right things. Well, possibly not quite the right words, but seeing as we ended up like this, I knew I must've said it the right way. 

  
When he released me, and as I basked in a glorious afterglow, I saw something in his eyes that I couldn't very well recognize, yet something that wasn't too unfamiliar. It made me think that something had just happened, something as significant as it was enigmatic. 

  


* * *

  


_[[ I know, I know, it seems like directionless angst. My goal was to subtly get them to see the companionship they have and are still creating. The problem is, I'm a little too good at subtlety. ^_^ But you're all probably tired of hearing of my insecurity, so for now, let's just end this with a truly heartfelt THANK YOU for everyone's encouragement. I swear, I never thought I could ever love people I've never even met before. ^_^ ]]_


	5. dream of something

5: _Every now and then I get a little bit restless and I dream of something wild..._

  


  


  
"Merry Christmas, Ken!" called the Christmas tree. 

  
Omi's head poked out from the side of the tree. A very enthusiastically-decorated tree, as Omi was never one to conceal his excitement. "Merry Christmas." I found myself returning his grin, only a little bit more subdued. 

  
I noted a trio of colorfully-wrapped boxes resting underneath the green leaves. Omi was the only one who felt any commitment to buy us all gifts and actually wrap them to let you know that it was carefully fashioned in his head for at least a week. The rest of us don't make a habit of buying gifts every year, and I admittedly feel no shame for that. Sometimes we end up giving something anyway, usually with an almost-defensive, "I wouldn't have bought it under normal circumstances, but I thought you'd really like it." A shared moment of knowing fully well the bond you have, that is between the two of you alone. And all is back to normal after that split second. 

  
Omi is unmistakably rubbing off on all of us, though, and even Aya can't claim to be an exception. Omi is just masterfully pure and gentle, and that's something you just can't fight. It made me want to give Omi something incredible, something no one else could give him. It didn't help that prior to Christmas, I had already received a present from him. Granted it was my birthday, but still. I would've felt guilty for taking so much I didn't deserve, if only it weren't from Omi. He used his mind-bending ability on me, allowing me to think that the world owed it to me to make me feel loved. 

  
I had found him helplessly covered in flour 2 days ago. He had already began apologizing profusely before I could ask him to elaborate on how he managed to arrive at his present predicament. I swear, at times he's so cute it makes my head ache. 

  
"It's okay, you dork, really. What happened? What's with the flour?" 

  
"I..." And the cerise came to heat his cheeks. "It'syourbithdayandIwantedtogiveyousomethingspecial." Blush blush. 

  
And no matter how rushed the delivery was, I could feel his sincere statement warm my heart. I wanted to make him repeat what he had said, just so I could hear it again and maybe, if possible, drink the affection behind the words just a bit more. But I took mercy on my poor self-control. Chances were that if he repeated it, I would've done something that went past gratitude and that he quite possibly wouldn't have appreciated. 

  
He explained that Yako had been in the picture, hence the supernatural mess. Yako had evolved -- er, grown -- significantly in just a few weeks, and the havoc he threatened to wreak had also increased tenfold. 

  
Omi left me to bathe after that, as I tried (and miserably failed) to stop imagining the aforementioned event. I had the same success (or lack thereof) when trying not to include myself in this mental image. Anyway, he managed to present me a batch of decent cookies by the end of the day. It left me wondering how he contrived that, as most of Omi's accomplishments tend to do. 

  
And now, here I am, being amazed by his tree-enhancing prowess. I suddenly wondered why our furriest resident wasn't there to ruin it. I asked the blond head, buried in endless ornaments, of Yako's whereabouts. 

  
As if summoned by my thoughts, Yako came running out of Omi's room. I stopped Omi's anxiety attack by picking up the heavy load of fur, thus ruining the dog's plans of mass decor destruction. After letting out a sigh of relief, Omi's full lips displayed an adorable pout. "Now I'm going to have to make sure he doesn't completely destroy the store. I _really_ wanted to go out today." 

  
The giddy part of me wished to say, "Your wish is my command", or something equally lame. The me part of me simply wanted to erase that pout, albeit its aesthetic value. "You can leave him with me. I wouldn't mind." 

  
"But I wanted to go out with you," he whined mildly. Heat rushed to our faces simultaneously, with the realization of the meaning behind Omi's words. 

  
Okay, there was no way in hell that his animal would stop me from **going out with Omi**. 

  
"We can leave him with Aya." _Oh, nice to see you again, stupidity._ Naturally, in my moment of unmitigated euphoria, I presumed that Omi had wanted to go out with me, and me alone. 

  
The belated warning bells stopped ringing in my ears as I got distracted by the grin spreading across my friend's face. "Great idea!" And it wasn't long before I mirrored his grin, this time, perhaps a more retardedly happy version of it. 

  
Fortunately for us, Yako was a big fan of Aya's, much to the latter's dismay. We were out the door before Aya would know of the impending doom that had befallen upon him. I should probably feel guilty about this, I really should. It's just that, nothing was further from my mind when Omi took my wrist and led me to some place I couldn't really pay attention to. With a bright and exhilarated smile, he said, "We'll make it up to Aya. Some day." _What? Who?_

  
We sat down side by side, and I couldn't for the life of me care where we were. Omi's eyes suddenly shot heavenward, rudely interrupting my staring at them. My own eyes followed suit, gaze landing on a mistletoe. We turn away from each other in an awkward instance, neither of us willing to be the first to laugh nervously and shrug it off. 

  
Which is precisely what we ended up doing. I lose track of who started the quiet chuckling, but I welcomed the dissemination of unfamiliar tension. After all... a mistletoe!? Corny, childish, silly, and _you really shouldn't be aroused because of a goddamn plant._ Alright, it wasn't exactly the mistletoe that was causing my unease, rather, it was... 

  
"Omi?" 10,000 points for keeping a steady voice. 

  
"Yeah?" 

  
"...Why do you buy us gifts _every_ Christmas time?" 

  
He swung his legs from his chair, the epitome of carefreeness. "People normally do that. For those who mean a lot to them." 

  
"But Aya and Yohji and I don't always give gifts. Do you think you don't mean a lot to us?" 

  
Omi laughed at that. I'm afraid he flat out giggled. "No, of course not. Gift-giving isn't a gauge of how much you care, I know you care for me. You're my family." I tried not to burn when he mentioned the 'f' word. It made me feel incestuous. "If I knew you back then, you would've come for me. You would've rescued me, or maybe it might not have even happened." The tears came as slowly as his voice decrescendoed. My heart ached for him, ached for his. "No one's ever cared for me like that before." 

  
It hurt to listen to him, but I was becoming more and more of a glutton for punishment each day. I know it wasn't helpful, but I just offered the most modest of touches on his shoulder. He slumped into me sideways, and my arms wrap themselves around him, letting us lean into each other. "You know I'd do anything under my power to keep you safe." 

  
/_Why is it so difficult...? _

  
'It.' Again surfaces that 'it' is the vaguest pronoun in all of this freaking universe./ 

  
"It's made everything worthwhile." He's making my heart beat irregularly again. 

  
And I have to tell him. "...But, do you really even know? How much I care for you?" 

  
/_It... was something. (There's your epiphany!) Something that made your eyes so beautiful that they're difficult to fathom, and so beautiful that you feel coerced into always trying to. But there never ever ever will be metaphors to come close._/ 

  
"I care a lot." Bravo, vocabulary. "I care a lot about you... more than I care about Aya and Yohji." More than I care about myself. 

  
"I knew," he said, sounding pretty much amazed. "I just don't know why. I..." _Say it._ My very soul and being and essence were on their knees and just praying and begging with all my blood vessels for him to _say it say it say it_... "I care about you, too, more than anyone else." 

  
/_'Beautiful!' Hah! But then again, almost all words are banal and completely lose their meaning, whenever I think about _Your eyes. Peaks of heaven through blond strands, liquid emotions that outsize your face and contain so many secret depths at the same time. _Really, imagine me, exposed to all of your blue eyes. What then, if you showed your soul to me all the time, twice at a glance?_/ 

  
And my body moved on its own accord, so drawn to him. So willing to trade in my dignity for a soul-breakingly short moment of glory. Not caring if my heart would probably pay hell for its actions. 

  
/_I'd... I would probably..._/ 

  
Closer. Because he's just. Right. There. And closer. To... 

  
/_I would explode, I guess._/ 

  
Being... 

  
/_We're talking, Ken's insides smattered all over the floor._/ 

  
...kissed. 

  
/_And, combustion?_/ Solar flares. Red dust, blue dust, star dust. Shimmering. Sparkling, imploding. And Warmth. It's Golden, Incandescent and Luminous and... hot. 

  
"Ken." 

  
And then there was Aya. 

  
Omi and I both let out none too manly screams and jumped away from each other upon hearing our dear friend's voice call my name. What the hell could he possibly want that's worth interrupting the greatest thing that has ever happened to me in my entire existence? My mind screamed at Aya to "go the fuck away". Aya had other plans. 

  
"Ken," he repeated. "...I'm sorry." 

  
"**What**?!" Somewhere past my rage, it occurred to me that Aya was apologizing. 

  
"I'm sorry, Ken, but this..." Aya gripped my shoulders tightly, sober eyes forcing me to look at them. "This isn't real." 

  
_What?!!_ It... No. 

  
_No._

  
It's... 

  
My eyes snapped open. My heart was slamming against my chest. 

  
I was in bed, tangled in blankets and pillows and sheets and despair. 

  
_It was a dream..._

  
It had been so real. I had been so fooled by my own illusion. He had been mine. _But... it didn't happen._ I held my arms tightly, punishing myself for even conjuring up such fantasies, then releasing myself from them. I couldn't endure the dull pain of how it seemed so real, and how it wasn't real at all. My whole body wracked with silent tears, that which I didn't want anyone else to hear. I was _trembling_. I wanted it so bad, it was killing me. _He's a murderer, in the truest sense of the word_, and I could physically feel my soul withering. 

  
After I sedated myself, I lay my body in an angry thud, willing the sinking ache in my chest to subside. I was reduced to shivers of abated tears, eyes being periodically shut tight in time with the worsening nausea ministered by my chest. It wasn't the first time I've had... dreams before, about Omi. But nothing was ever so _powerful_. It was easily more intense than the more physical scenarios I usually dreamt of. 

  
I had mastered it -- being content with simply loving him, not needing his love in return. I knew I had to get that contentment back, and I had to battle the remnants of hope caused by that cruel dream. 

  
_Sometimes, no matter how long, or how much you love someone, they won't love you back... and somehow you have to learn to be okay with that..._ Somehow. 

  


* * *

  


_[[ Argh. This was _not_ supposed to happen. ^_^' I'll be nicer next chapter, I (almost) feel bad for being such an intemperate sadist to him. So if you have any spare bear hugs, I think now's an appropriate time to give some to Kenken. Hint: one hug per review. ^_^ ]]_


	6. in your arms

6: _Every now and then I get a little bit helpless and I'm lying like a child in your arms..._

  


  


  
Another day was wearily stretching out, leaving me bored as ever. This is certainly more evidence to back my ideology -- that I simply let my life go to whichever direction it so pleases. I've never really had a long-term schedule. It was probably booked long ago by my que sera sera ways. I was practicing this exact disinterest of the future as I idly watched a few birds outside, wondering if I could train them into telling me when Omi would show up in the doorway, a helpless tangle of slender arms and heaps of books. 

  
"I'm not Omi," Aya said, apropos of absolutely nothing. 

  
I really could've discerned that without him pointing it out. So please excuse me while I blink repeatedly in sheer bewilderment. 

  
"You just said his name," Aya replied to my unspoken question. "I usually assume that one is speaking to me when that person and I are the only ones present." 

  
I found my temper not exactly compromising when dealing with this new, talkative Aya. "I didn't call Omi's name," I retorted indignantly, realizing that I probably did, "because that would mean I were totally psychotic. And what's your goddamn problem, anyway? Why should you care unless I magically morphed into your sister or if Omi transformed into a credit card?" Babbling, as you can see, is always an indication of the accused's guilt. 

  
"I just wanted you to get my name right." 

  
_I can't believe I'm getting this from _Aya_, of all people!_ Irrational little spots of red swam before my eyes in fascinating disarray. "I said, I did not call you Omi, for the simple reason that I wasn't even talking to you!" 

  
He could've easily asked me who exactly I was talking to, and embarrassed me a bit more, but he apparently decided that he reached his word quota for the day. It's a good thing the speech embargo resurfaced, before I could do anything stupid like actually trying to start a brawl in the flower shop. In the return of divine silence, my temper gave way to shame. I traced down the origin of my hatred for Aya -- my childish tendency to effortless revulsion aside. I associated these misplaced feelings to the dream I had about a month ago. 

  
_"This is not real."_

  
I know it wasn't exactly justified. And it wasn't fair to Aya at all. 

  
Anyway, I have healed from it, albeit incompletely. It was easy to banish the hunger of my hope -- it was frail to begin with. My need for Omi never once faltered, and so I just accepted it, as I do many things. It was a part of me, and that was the simple elegance of the fact. I'm still going down that road of uncertainty with naive trust in that everything will turn out fine. I love him, and vow to love him selflessly. I convinced myself that I could conquer my own needs and my historically ill-timed libido with (much) practice. 

  
There was nothing wrong with simply loving him. Because romance, all those passionate kisses and sincere whispers, are only passionate and sincere during a few select heartbeats. What I feel for Omi, this unreachably deep feeling, far transcends that. 

  
Something so profound, you'd think, he deserved to know. It wouldn't risk our friendship -- Omi would forgive us just about anything... even my lust for him. It would be a terrible irony though, if he ended up hating me for loving him too much. 

  
But that wouldn't be the case. I sometimes think it would be easier if it were, just to end all this melodrama fit to rival a soap opera. But the truth is, Omi would probably feel obligated to respond correctly. He wouldn't want to lie, but he wouldn't want to hurt me. I didn't want to give him extra dilemmas. Besides, our friendship is already the best thing I could ever ask for, and I will always be more than thankful to destiny for letting me have that. 

  
"Stop. It's disconcertingly mature." 

  
... 

  
_Had I been saying all that aloud?!_ Just how short-circuited did my brain get?! 

  
I took apart Aya's extremely minimalist sentence and analyzed it every which way. _Dammit, why can't you keep your mouth shut? Literally?_ What did he mean by that? Was he supporting my feelings? My abstinence? ...Was that homophobic in nature? _What exactly did my big trap blurt out loud? What does it matter, he surely got the gist of your little impromptu romance novel!_

  
"Aya," I began, hoping my fear was completely dissipated in my anger, though I greatly doubted the possibilities. 

  
"I don't care how you feel. Not unless you two turn into credit cards." Just so I didn't have to guess which way to interpret his ever-cryptic statement, I swear to everything sacred, I saw a corner of his mouth lift upwards. He had never looked more beautiful. 

  
_He won't tell anyone. Not Omi, not even Yohji. Although I don't know why he'd want to tell Yohji._ I smiled, despite the fact that I had let my secret slip so carelessly, remembering the Aya's own "smile". 

  
Maybe Aya was right, maybe I had matured a little. I remembered speculating on this once, a few weeks ago. I had managed not to stuff Yako up Yohji's ass when I heard him telling a bunch of high school girls that, for my birthday, they should write me volumes of pornography starring a blonde boy with big blue eyes. (Having heard one of them reply, "Ken isn't blonde..." gave me infinitesimal ease. But I did praise the remaining innocence in this sick world.) 

  
"Yohji took Yako out for a walk, right?" 

  
"Hn." Oh, right, back to the normal conversations. That specific "Hn", by the way, was designed to mean "yes". 

  
To explain Yohji's seeming sudden interest in animals, he had used Yako more than once upon discovering what an effective prop the dog made when picking up women. He ultimately decided on sticking to his traditional ways once he realized that it simply wasn't worth the trouble of hauling that chibified monster everywhere. Personally, I thought that it wasn't like he needed the extra points himself. I admit, I may have envied Yohji's effect on people once or twice, his smoldering looks and confidence. Aya wasn't free of my covetousness, either, what with the allure he radiated which was lost on no one, not even on Omi. And then, of course, there's Omi, with his irresistible smile and how incredibly sexy he didn't know he was. Basically, it gets hard not to curse my awkward nature and dull appearance. Not that those things are truly substantial. I never got bitter about it, but I allow myself griping privileges now and then. 

  
"Hello, Kitty." 

  
I yelped, startled, nearly victimizing a nearby pot. I fixed a glare on Yohji, who had somehow gotten in the store unnoticed. _Did he just call me "Kitty" or was that some odd reference to Sanrio merchandise?_ "Dammit, Yohji! Don't do that again, or..." I have seriously got to find some nice, effectively acrid threats. 

  
"Yeah, yeah. Kenken, do me a favor and tell Pretty Boy that Yako ran off and we couldn't find him." 

  
"Idiot! You lost Yako?!" Yohji raised an eyebrow at my violent reaction, as if I was such a keeper of peace to begin with. "Do you lose track of anything not attached to big breasts?! Oh wait, you lose those too!" I almost winced after that last remark, not meaning to sound so harsh. 

  
Thankfully, Yohji ignored the comment. "Shut up, Ken, I'm not as careless as you are. He's perfectly not lost in that pet shop that's a few streets from here." 

  
"You sold him?" 

  
...Yohji nodded. 

  
"Omi's gonna kill you!" 

  
"Uh, yeah, and that's where you come along," Yohji informed me with enough certainty to piss me off. "You're going to help me tell the kid that Yako ran off by himself. That way, no one gets hurt." _Not even Omi?_ "We can't coexist with that thing under the same roof. Even Aya knows it, right, Aya?" 

  
Aya chose to display his apathetic expertise. 

  
"Yeah. Right," Yohji supplied for him. 

  
"So, you want me to lie to Omi?" 

  
"He'd believe anything you say. The kid adores you." 

  
"That's not the point." _Not right now, anyway._ "He loves that dog. You didn't have the courage to tell him what you were planning to do, because you wouldn't be able to take him being angry with you." Actually, it was probably the fact that Yohji wouldn't have been able to go through with it if Omi begged him not to. No one's immune to that, I tell you.

  
I stalked off, not waiting for Yohji to defend himself against my accusations. I couldn't care less if he and Aya thought I was overreacting, or if I was being an arrogant little shit for walking out, something only those two were permitted to do by some unwritten law. I couldn't even care if they figured out that I had left to get Yako back. 

  
I purchased Yako for an unjust price, just thankful I had found him on time. I let them keep him first, as I apparently caught him in the middle of a bath, and I had to get to the shop before Omi did. I tripped twice racing home, ergo the forming bruise on my cheekbone. I shrugged off both exhibitions of clumsiness, my only goal to reach the flower shop on time. 

  
Seeing Omi slumped on the floor, head buried in his hands, I berated myself for failing. 

  
"Omi?" I shot a purposeful glare towards Yohji. 

  
"Yako... ran away..." Omi looked up at me. "What do I tell Keichi? Ken, what... Who's going to take care of Yako?" 

  
I knelt down beside him and gathered him in my arms, gently rocking him with as much tenderness as I could summon within me. "Don't worry, kid. And please don't cry. I'll look for Yako, I won't give up until I find him." 

  
"You don't. Have to do that..." 

  
"But I don't like seeing you sad. I _do_ have to." 

  
Silence was with us for some time, holding us in a not unpleasant calm. And then... "You're my best friend, Ken, I love you." It came out soft and low, but I'm sure even Aya and Yohji heard it. I heard it. I had to get my heart to remember its basic functions. Oh, and breathing. I thought I was about to burst, swelling with so much more emotion than I thought was the capacity to feel. 

  
_Is it so wrong to hope that Yohji -- and everyone else in the whole world -- is seeing this and is jealous?_ I helped him up, telling him to straighten himself, just so we wouldn't look too much like I'd slipped him a date rape drug or something. I helped him to his room, feeling like some sort of cheesy hero. 

  
Soon we were on his bed, his head between my chin and collarbone. I smoothed back his hair, perpetually disheveled as it was. I put one arm around him, protectiveness washing over me in no little amounts. We were watching a cartoon movie, which actually held his attention. There was only one line I really heard, that came back to haunt me between mocking intervals. 

  
_Who could ever learn to love a beast?_

  
Who indeed? ...Another beast? 

  
_"You're my best friend, Ken, I love you." _

  
Ken, I love you. 

  
An angel. Only an angel could love a beast. 

  
"I'm sorry. For bursting into tears like that. I must be so weak to do that all the time." 

  
I growled lightly as I held him tighter. "And I always tell you not to apologize. Stupid kid. If you meant it, that I'm your best friend, then we should be able to let the other one comfort us. And you did mean it, right?" 

  
"Of course! Of course I meant it!" 

  
My heart kind of levitated, I think. From then on, all I could concentrate on was to stop petting Omi, which in turn would stop the freely-released sighs from coming to his slightly-parted lips, all of which were progressively diminishing my humbled self-control. Needless to say, the aforementioned self-control was the only thing (barely) saving Omi from being molested right then and there. My hand buried itself deeply in thick silk, scented, melted petals, up and down in a soothing rhythm. The temptation to feel his bare skin beneath my finger tips was excruciating, as was my love for him. 

  
He was everything to me, and more of it each day. But proprietorship of this knowledge could never keep up with all the corners of me that he managed to consume so that things like this would still catch me by surprise. 

  
"You should know then, that I've had a best friend before, but no one like you. I mean, really, do you think I could've shared this with anyone else? This feeling I have for you, it's stronger than I've ever come to know." _This reminds me of my dream._ It reminded me that I shouldn't let him know exactly what I feel... 

  
He reached up, lightly caressing the bruise on my cheek. He questioned me with his eyes, and I shook my head in reply. He seemed to melt completely into me after I poured out (most of) my feelings. "That's it, then. That's the exact thing I feel for you. And we shouldn't try to name it." 

  
I was absorbed. I was his. Even, even if he'll never be mine. And even if he didn't feel the exact same way I did, it was the closest thing to perfect that I'd probably ever be allowed to feel. He stroked the skin over my bruise again, right before timidly brushing his lips over it for the briefest second in time. I didn't know what to do with this moment, I knew nothing of how to prolong it, only how to savor the way an angel could fit so achingly perfect in my arms. 

  


* * *

  


_[[ I know, I know, I'm just prolonging the fic... I'll write something with a semblance of a plot in the next chapter, I promise! My only goal was to finish this, because for the rest of the month I'll be doing the mad dash that is . ^_^ Besides, after the last chapter, I supposed that a little fluff was in order. ^_^ ]]_


	7. gotta get out

7: _Every now and then I get a little bit angry and I know I gotta get out and cry..._

  


  


  
The lesson for that day was well past beginning, and I had to admit I was more than slightly disappointed that Keichi didn't come. I was pretty attached to him by now and what I had dubbed as my paternal instincts always flared up in his favor. I did have a little dream featuring him. For the more perverted of the audience: no, not _that_ kind of dream. My subconscious spun a fantasy wherein Omi was my wife, and Keichi was our son, the three of us forming a veritable family life. Don't worry, I didn't angst over this dream, as it was far too comedic. Omi in a lacey pink apron, a bit different from the ones at the Koneko, will always be something to remember. 

  
Another favorite of mine was when Omi and Keichi would beg me to bring them to the beach. I didn't need much imagination with respect to Omi using his looks to get his way, this is very much a present day application. I know I never stop mentioning this, the never-ending war between my laughable will power and his infallible weapons -- the eyes. How he widens them a bit more, flutters his eyelashes a bit faster... He's at his most evil when he looks most angelic. You'll know he's resorting to underhanded tricks once you start imagining a halo encircling his head and anticipating large white wings to sprout from his back. So take my word for it, don't ever hope to recognize the word 'no' once he's through with you. Resistance is futile, you will be assimilated. 

  
The last daydream that made it to my Top 3 was of Keichi tugging my arm, asking me what I think "mommy" would be cooking us when we got home. It was addicting to envision, which is why I decided never to be too serious about it. 

  
That's why, at first, I wasn't completely cognizant of how real Keichi and a more than familiar blond head were, when they were coming into view. What wasn't too familiar was the hardened blue of eyes that were usually brimming with sunshine. _So, _that_ was corny._ Oh, but I've imagined this before, kind of. Omi was marching towards me, angry that I had forgotten our anniversary. I would make a weak excuse of having no one to leave Keichi with. Then Omi would take Keichi, disappear for awhile, then return to tell me that Keichi was now in the care of two certain capable Koneko employees. Then he would force (quote unquote) me into taking him out to dinner, naturally followed by... 

  
Okay, stop. This Omi, in front of you, is real. 

  
"O--" 

  
"You knew where Yako was, didn't you?" 

  
And this Omi, in front of you, is angry. 

  
Nothing could prepare me for the foreign coldness in his voice. 

  
"Did you think I didn't need to be told?" Omi's hands curled into tight, defiant fists. "Yeah, well, it's just a dumb dog, right? It's not like it would've killed me to lose a pet. So, apparently, you didn't even find it fit to tell me, _Ken_." The way he said my name... I wish he just took one of his darts and plunged it into my chest, at least that would've _hurt less_... 

  
"Omi." I had to stop him from saying anything else. It was bound to destroy me. "Please, not in front of them." I gestured to my students. "I don't..." 

  
"You don't want them to see your pathetic friend, getting worked up over nothing? Huh, Ken?" 

  
"I don't..." _I don't want them to see me cry._ "I don't think they should hear this." 

  
He snorted in disgust, and I almost flinched, unaccustomed to being in the receiving half of this. From him. "Your precious secrets. It shouldn't matter that I had called you my best friend yesterday. Everything we said, those shouldn't matter." His eyes began to look conflicted, battling with anger and, now, something like rejection. As if telling me that summer days will forever be gone. And I deserve (if anything) the least gentle of winters. "I trust you... I did." _Don't take it back._ "I trusted you with my feelings, my thoughts, and I told you everything. I trust you with my life. And then... I wasn't even worth telling...? Didn't you have enough confidence in me to be able to handle that?" 

  
"I just--" 

  
"You allowed me to think that you also thought of me as your best friend, when you didn't even want me to know a stupid thing like giving Yako away! Don't I even mean enough to you to tell me the truth?" He took my arm and yanked it roughly, making sure I met his eyes. Making sure to fracture my soul with their hatred. "Sure I would've been sad for awhile, maybe a bit angry, but I'd've known -- I'd've _thought_ -- that true friends would be there for each other no matter what. If you cared about me like you said you did, you would've been there with me, instead of placating me with lies." 

  
"I didn't lie!" 

  
"You lied to me, countless times! You made me believe I really found something pure and real." He turned away from me before finishing his sentence, running away and taking my whole being with him. 

  
I couldn't answer any of the children's questions, only allowed them to gather around me and fail miserably at trying to comfort me. I excused myself from them, half-willing myself to know what was coming out of my mouth. They respectfully stayed away from me, but I still would not release my tears. I had been too exhausted to cry, exhausted from keeping myself from disintegrating. Time blended ungracefully with the multi-stabbing in the regions of my brain and most especially in my heart. 

  
I looked up to the sky, at first, just barely recognizing the sun. Until the reds and oranges crashed into each other, paintbrush strokes of iridescence. I was struck so suddenly and so strongly by its beauty... 

  
_Why am I affected by a sunset? As if I didn't see one everyday without fail. ...Is it because I'm sad right now? Is this how the world looks like through hurt eyes?_

  
I felt a small hand graze my thigh, and heard a voiceless apology. 

  
"What do you mean?" 

  
"It's my fault," Keichi mumbled. "All of it." 

  
The near-sob brought me out of wallowing, forcing me to sound more gentle rather than completely void of emotion. "No, no, don't think it's your fault..." 

  
"But it is." Fixated on his shoe, it almost seemed as if he were afraid to look at me. "I was in the pet shop with my mom, because we needed to buy dog food. I was so surprised when I saw Yako there. I had to ask my mom to let me see Omi after school. 

  
"Then Omi and I went to the pet shop together, and I showed him Yako. Omi was telling Ms. Ayuna, the saleslady, that there had been a mistake. But she said that Yako already belonged to someone and she began describing you. Then Omi... looked so sad all of a sudden. I asked him what was wrong then he said you lied to him, and he got angry." 

  
"I didn't lie to him," I said brokenly. "You believe me, right? I didn't lie to him!" 

  
Keichi looked at me, a little frightened by the way I must've resembled a madman pleading a case in front of the court. "You didn't lie to him about Yako?" he asked meekly. 

  
"I... I was going to bring Yako back to him." _...But he might've stopped clinging onto me, like he did that night._ I couldn't explain it to Keichi, not unless I wanted him running to his mother crying about an "Emergency! My soccer coach wants to fondle his best friend!" Best friend... "I might've lied about that," I admitted. "But not about him being my best friend. He is, and I do care about him." 

  
"Then you should tell him that. Right?" 

  
"I can't go after him now, he's angry with me." 

  
"The more you should go! You just said he's your best friend, and he said that best friends are there for each other no matter what. So you need to talk to him, even if it looks like he doesn't want to talk to you." He poked my leg, noticing the ineffectiveness of his pep talk. "There was one time, I was very grumpy. My best friend didn't want to talk to me because he thought it would just upset me some more. But then my dog, he went to me because he knew I needed company. He wasn't afraid whether or not I'd get mad at him, he just knew that he had to try." 

  
I smiled at him, truly amazed by his premature wisdom. I had barely thanked him enough before running after Omi in my belated courage. 

  
"Omi!" 

  
He turned, pinning me with bright blue piercing eyes. 

  
"Omi, I--" 

  
"No. Please. I'm sorry, I'm just so confused right now. I don't even know why this matters so much." 

  
Before this incident, I never I imagined I was capable of introducing so much tension between us. Lessons are learned, though, and prices are paid. I was paying little by little in generous amounts, fragments of me. My debt increased with the lengths of his sighs. "Because I was partly responsible for taking something that obviously meant so much to you. If I were in you"--_damn Freudian slips to hell!_--"I mean, in your shoes, I probably would've gotten a great deal pissed, too." Taking my notably shorter fuse into consideration. 

  
He shrunk away from me, apparently oblivious to how I was destined to shatter if he kept this up. "But it's more than a feeling of betrayal -- you know how _that_ feels, don't you? But it's not just that, it's something deeper," he continued in a devastating voice. I was doomed. 

  
"God, I-- Look, I'm sorry we can't all be you. We can't just immediately know what to do or what to say in any given situation." 

  
"I wasn't even asking for that," he retorted defensively, just when his eyes were softening. 

  
"Well, you might as well have." Someone, please, deliver me from my stupidity. "You flew off the handle because I screwed up, not even letting me explain. I'm sorry for not telling you, I really am, but I can't help you when you're reading all sorts of things into it. Like, saying I don't care for you enough. How could you say that just because I made a mistake?" _What am I doing?_ I had transfigured all my emotions into the uselessness that was my temper. Psychologically speaking, we may simply call this a defense mechanism. 

  
"You _don't know_ what I'm feeling." 

  
"Tell me, then. Keep up with your words. You said you tell me everything, prove it." 

  
Omi's eyes flashed, as if taking offense to my challenge. "_You..._ I can't believe you. I do tell you everything, and I'd tell you about this if I only knew how. But I can't put into words how you made me feel. It's like you never meant to say you... l-loved me, maybe you only had to humor me, because it's your duty to--" 

  
I don't think I thought it out very well when I grabbed his arms with not much tenderness, and just as unreluctantly kissed him on his lips. 

  


* * *

  


_[[ Have yourselves a merry little Christmas. ^_^ I'll be right back. ]]_


	8. i fall apart

8: _Every now and then I fall apart..._

  


  


  
I know I'd rather live a lifetime of doing absolutely nothing with Omi, and Omi alone, than live the most luxurious or the most interesting life with anyone else. Which is why I was extremely focused watching my young and unconscious friend. 

  
Actually, I wasn't alone. Aya and Yohji were actually present, with a combined solemn silence that was enough to disconcert you -- at least on Yohji's part. I hadn't intended to write their existence off the plane of the universe, but there were absolutely no more thoughts that my mind could've possibly accommodated. No space for spare for whatsoever concept that did not involve self-pity, guilt, or Omi. In ascending order of priority. 

* * *

_ When I let him go, his face was contorted in shock, undoubtedly a mirror of my own. I couldn't say I didn't entirely know what possessed me to follow through such an impulsive action -- I could name quite a few reasons. But ostensibly, I was just as surprised as Omi when my self-control just gave. And I was sent spiraling into the deepest trenches of hell when I watched the look of shock on Omi's face graduate into fear. _

  
I had terrified him. 

  
I was paralyzed -- my mind paused at the image of his widened eyes and quivering lip, swollen still from the force of my uninvited kiss. I was unable to move, least of all unable to run after him for a second time that day... 

* * *

Aya was leaning on the far corner of the room, knowing he was supposed to do something, as well as knowing his limited capabilities of comfort. Yohji, drifting somewhere behind me, seemed just as uncomfortable in his skin, trying to avoid his instinct to poke his nose into other people's affairs, especially mine and/or Omi's. 

  
The three of us were in the most mercilessly plain white room to have ever existed. I will later propose that all hospitals should have wallpapers of unicorns or singing fruits or dolphins. Anything. 

* * *

_I was stuck in the amalgamation of minutes and hours, the monochrome swirls of undying, unblinking seconds. Yohji found me in this soulless daze, but I wasn't paying attention to him until I heard a word resembling a certain name. _

  
"What?!" 

  
"Omi. We found him unconscious and Aya's bringing him to the hospital right now..." 

  
Running to the hospital was kind of like teetering over the edge of a cliff, with someone always shoving you closer to the insurmountable darkness. The reward of arrival was getting to see Omi, looking like a human open wound. He was a shameless display of dark red blood that sickened my stomach. 

  
The harsh crimson burned my eyes, and in no time I was convulsing in tears. I could feel bodies surrounding me, telling me he was going to be okay, that I was becoming hysterical, that I should calm the fuck down, that he was a strong person, that I should keep my sanity for him. The voices were way too loud and demanding, and there were too many of them. The darkness seemed so much more soothing, and I welcomed the divine deliverance... 

* * *

"You really kissed him?" Yohji asked casually, as if he had not disrupted the exquisite silence that I had been punishing myself so gratuitously in. By asking me to verify (yet again) my most unlawful act to date, no less. Good old Yohji. 

  
"You know, I don't feel enough like shit, so please make things worse for me." 

  
"I'm sorry. ...So you really kissed him?" 

  
"And it's not like you haven't been teasing me to him for the past few months, huh?" But I realized his plan now. He wanted to provoke me, as a way to release whatever I was feeling. I recognized this sacrifice, and inasmuch as I wanted to take it all out on him, I had no energy left to take advantage of this opportunity. Every muscle I owned refused Yohji's martyrdom. 

  
"But, Ken, isn't he like your brother? Your _little_ brother?" 

  
I had to admit, nevertheless, he was _good_ at this. "...Thank you, Yohji, for attempting to add new levels to my perversion." 

  
Encouraged, he brought his face inches away from mine. "Hey, I didn't--" 

  
I pushed him away with the little strength I managed to muster up. "I know what you're trying to do, you bastard. Stop it." I may not be considered intelligent, but this was the umpteenth time Yohji tried to pull this on me. And the first (and very possibly last) time he would fail. 

  
Despite the physical aggression, he was convinced that he would have to find a better way to relieve my stress. And eventually, he'd have to learn his lesson that there was really nothing he could do about it. 

* * *

_When I woke up after fainting, Yohji and Aya had been talking to a couple of nurses. They were relatively attractive, making me wonder why Yohji was making no attempt to flirt with them at all. _

  
I molested my forehead and stabbed at my temples with my fingertips, trying to numb my thoughts. The result wasn't nearly as successful as I had planned for it to be. I joined Aya and Yohji, who seemed a little less excited to see me revived, preoccupied with their thoughts. They looked disturbed, to say the least. "What's going on?" I demanded, still a bit confused and a great deal dizzy. 

  
"Omi... He..." Yohji looked like he was trying to remember something, meaningless words that constituted a sentence. "They think..." 

  
"They told us what happened to Omi," Aya cut him short with a terse sentence. I had no doubt that if he said any more, his calculatedly blank facade would've crumbled in front of our very eyes. Which, finally, began to scare me. 

  
"What happened to him?!" I knew I wouldn't have wanted to hear the answer so bad when I actually received it. I would be so much better off ignorant. I probably knew somewhere in the back of my mind that I didn't deserve that kind of complacent benightedness... 

* * *

I could still feel the chill that ran across my spine and throughout the entire length of my body when they told me about the doctor's findings. 

* * *

_I stared blankly at Aya, waiting for him to retract his cruel lie. _

  
He never did. 

  
I was sent into another fit. My head pounded on all sides, and I was pulling my hair and clutching my skull because I was in so much need to equalize the pain. Aya had turned away, one personality away from hugging me. 

  
I was periodically going into coughing and choking fits in an urgency to breathe. I felt so ill, so delusional, as if I were drunk. I wanted to give up so badly. I wanted to just close my eyes and wake up in a new world, as a new person. I wanted to break free from everyone, run away and not stop running until I was promised that I would never have to meet anyone that I would feel this way for again. I felt my soul abandon me, leaving in its place the skeleton of a small, frightened boy. 

  
I wasn't aware that Yohji was leading me somewhere, let alone of that place's location. But with the most accurate of timing, he shoved me into the bathroom and made me face the toilet bowl where I almost dunked my head in. The force in my stomach and throat made me lurch forward and heave what felt like my insides. I threw up constantly for twenty minutes, in the midst of Yohji's most desperate ministrations. 

  
He pulled me up once I was done, and left me alone for awhile to clean up. With all the trembling and hiccuping, I wondered why I hadn't passed out again. We returned to Aya, standing at Omi's bedside, and for a second I had more than myself to think about. Through the very visible tears in his eyes, Aya was looking at the only person aside from his sister who had drawn from him the sole tenderness he ever felt... 

* * *

The world could continue to collapse in a single sunrise, and I doubted I would've cared much. It would've only been appropriate, actually. End it all in one fell swoop. 

  
I ran out of weary sighs and I've rubbed my eyes so much that I've probably obliterated my tear ducts. I felt hideous. Hell, I probably was. Condemned into never forgetting that look on Omi's face. 

  
I was so tired... I was beginning to think it was permanent... 

  
You know that feeling? After crying so long and hard, longer and harder than you ever have, you feel like there's nothing left in the world to do. You're nothing but a hollow lump of skin, and you think, "everything is over." You're in a dead calm that is yours alone, and nothing's ever going to happen again. Everything moves in a heavy blur, and everything is over. 

* * *

_Several hours or a few seconds later (I couldn't tell the difference), Yohji sighed, diagnosing me as inconsolable. Nevertheless, he pursed the story I told both him and Aya with no munificent amount of caution. I thought better of explaining to him the concept of sensitivity, in a not-so-sensitive way. "You didn't go after him when he ran?" _

  
"It's all my fault," I said in a damaged whisper, by way of reply. 

  
"Oh, for the last time! We don't know why_ it happened!" _

  
"You were a detective, do the math!" I snarled. My voice fading in time with my spirit, I mumbled, "How could I do this? He... saved my life so many times, and this is how I repay him?" Yohji looked away, now neither he nor Aya could stand to watch me. "I owe my life to him, and not only as Siberian. He's the only thing that keeps my head together." 

  
I stopped when I noticed tears welling up in Yohji's eyes. 

  
"We want to protect him, simply because he protects us all from something much worse. From ourselves." After that, it seemed as if Yohji was speaking to himself. "From those quiet times I could hear the cries of the people who died in my hands. It's not supposed to make me feel guilty. But regardless of who the person was, I always felt I was further damning my soul to hell. The danger I can bring is sometimes like adrenaline rush, like a driving motivation. But those normal times, with normal people, it's the very thing that destroys me, truly making me feel the torture I bring. 

  
"And it's only Omi who could pull me through it. When I finally let him, he was the only one who knew how to..." 

  
I clenched my jaw, not wanting to cry again. "And I helped take that away from us." 

  
"You didn't," Aya snapped suddenly. Confirming that he, too, shared that blessing in finding salvation in Omi. "Blame yourself outside, if you insist on pitying yourself." I was stunned by the way this scathed me, and moreso shocked by his next remark. "But the fact is, you should be the one Omi sees when he wakes up." 

  
"Don't say you caused his death, because only Omi completely knows the truth," Yohji said, before letting my mouth so much as open. "As much as I want to be the one most qualified to talk to him, I know I'm not. And if you must know, yes, I'm jealous. You're most entitled to comfort him when he regains consciousness. Not Aya, not me. So at least do something about it." 

  
"Considering the circumstances, I doubt that's very applicable right now." 

  
"Then don't consider the circumstances," Aya said, almost... softly... "Just who he is, and what he's done for you..." 

* * *

I argued with Aya and Yohji that Omi might not exactly want to see me. But both of them apparently conspired against me, insisting it would've been the last of Omi's worries upon awakening. 

  
My imagination took to activating itself, conjuring up a scene wherein Omi would wake up with another case of amnesia. On one hand, he would've forgotten his life with Weiss, and we can send him off to the normal life he deserved. It would be a blessing in disguise. Quite a disguise, too. 

  
Because consequently he'd forget me. The thought didn't settle well with me. Not necessarily the interactions we've had recently, but everything we shared. If he'd lose all the memories of our bond, of what we meant to each other, of everything we've been through... it would be like losing everything _I_ ever had. Nothing at all would have been worthwhile. 

  
In giving him a new life, I'd have to forfeit my own. But even this, I was ready to do. I guess I was willing to do anything that could, in even the smallest fraction, make me hate myself less. 

* * *

_I shuddered, my shoulders tensing in anticipation for Aya's answer. "What happened to him?!! Just tell me, dammit!" _

  
Aya stared blankly elsewhere, anywhere away from my wide, panicked eyes. "There was enough... evidence to indicate... that Omi attempted to take his own life." 

  


  


* * *

  


_[[ My poor, tortured narrator... Well, obviously I can't really tell you right now why that happened, but please just trust me that it's not too stupid. ...I hope. And if you got more confused than what was necessary, I'm sorry. The italicized paragraphs are flashbacks, and are mostly in chronological order, except for the last one. I had to move it there for dramatic purposes. Anyway, I have confidence in your ability to comprehend even the most disoriented fanfiction formats. ^_^ ]]_


	9. need you now

_And I need you now tonight..._   
** This happens somewhere in the middle of the next chapter, and is in a strange and detached kind of third person perspective. We all want to give dear Ken a rest, this is Aya x Yohji. Also, the warnings come into play a bit more blatantly: the AU and the unintentional OOC.**

  


  


  
"Nice improvisation," Aya muttered as he and Yohji left Omi's hospital room. 

  
Summary: Omi had regained consciousness. Yohji decides to redecorate the wall with a whole in the shape of his fist. Now, he and Aya conveniently leave in order to let the two younger boys discuss in all the privacy they needed. 

  
Statistics: (1) Yohji's left hand is bleeding. (2) Regular heartbeats be damned. (3, 4, 5, 6, 7...) Aya's hand is on the small of Yohji's back. 

  
Yohji was washing his hand in utter fascination, as if investigating how wrinkly his skin could get. It was a terrible mess, blood and water cascading in the sink. "What do you think they're talking about?" 

  
Thinking. Yohji was thinking. Man always gets into trouble when he's thinking. STUPID MAN. There are basics to stick to. Hunger. Hurt. Feed yourself. Slay your enemies. You are then neither evil nor good, you are basic. 

  
Aya knew how much Yohji wanted to get thrashed. Drown his thoughts in bottles and bathtubs of alcohol, drink the amnesiac serum in dangerous luxurious amounts. It's a crying shame he couldn't, because he had to take this well. Too bad. Yohji could barely take any consolation in that he was taking this the best among the three, all things considered. Aya was hardly surprised by Yohji's emotional stamina. Aya was rarely surprised anymore, anyway. 

  
"You're concerned about him. Both of them, actually, but especially him." 

  
"Gee, really? Thanks for reminding me, lest it slipped my mind." Yohji sighed, plopping down on a chair. "Wonder if he's dead." He later amended it to, "I hope he's dead." 

  
(Psst. He's just annoyed that he never really mastered the divine virtue of apathy; oh! sweet lack of concern.) Aya knew he didn't mean it. Aya just knows these things, out of habit. 

  
The omniscient redhead handed Yohji an ointment he got from a nurse. "It'll make you feel better." 

  
It was difficult, too difficult, to ignore Yohji's whispered, "No, it won't..." 

  
"Yohji..." 

  
Aya's voice came out hoarse, and fatigued, and (miracle of miracles) laced with the need to tell Yohji something. Making Yohji ask, "What's wrong?" 

  
"I know how you feel." 

  
Nope, not in the list of expected answers. "Uh huh." 

  
"I mean it. I _feel_ what you're feeling right now. 

  
"You do?" _What was that hollow, echoing, multiresonating tone? Less importantly, who did it belong to?_

  
A man, a stranger, a closest friend -- they all looked at Yohji simultaneously through Aya's eyes. "I mean, I know your emotions. I'm an empath, Yohji. Other people's emotions are transposed into me, even when I don't want them to. Your emotions are so loud right now, I can't even tell them from mine anymore..." 

  
"You're an empath?" The blonde one seemed to be stuck there. There comes a time when your jokes can no longer save you. Fact. 

  
"I never told any of you," Aya said simply, needlessly. 

  
_Aya... is that why you're so distant? Do you isolate yourself because you can't endure other people's pain? You shut yourself off the world, and this is why. It explains everything. Well, not exactly _everything_, but I do understand you a bit more now. _

  
But you're here with me, and you're exposed to my grief... 

  
"That's why I wasn't surprised when Ken told us about him and Omi. I got him to tell me about it, even if it did involve a little trickery." There was a pause, because Yohji had been expecting Aya to say more. Maybe even to rewind time and smear a proverbial eraser all over his latest speech. Yohji has always seen it unfair that life didn't come free with Aya filters. It's so unreasonable living under these conditions, attaching yourself to a three-dimensional likeness of a human being, chasing always after said statue. 

  
"Why are you telling me this? Not the Ken thing, but the whole empathy thing." 

  
Leave it to Yohji and his big fat anti-intimacy hammer to ruin every fragile camaraderie threatening to build itself between him and any other human being. "I don't know, just forget it..." The hammer's smash resonated throughout Yohji's brain in prevalent echoes. 

  
_Not this time._ "I don't want to forget it." Telling Aya not to push him away, not _now_. 

  
Aya sensed, knew, that Yohji didn't want him to take back that particular, almost tangible seal of their... their friendship. Aya knew what Yohji needed. He just knows those things, out of habit. "I don't know why I told you about my curse." (Curse, n. a dreadful subjugation by a greater force, presumably some vague deity whose name is always mentioned. May be mistaken for a gift, and vice versa.) Danger: the cool, calm, I'm a Deadly Sexy but Stoic Bastard mask is about to fall short. This is not a drill: danger! "I don't know why I wanted to tell you about how I feel what my victims feel while I'm murdering them. How it pushes me to this insanity and almost eagerness to see them die amongst the chaos and the noise. How it's the very thing that wreaks my soul and casts me further into oblivion, when things are quiet and peaceful." 

  
"Aya..." 

  
...was dictating Yohji's life in first person. 

  
"Omi knew about my sufferings, not because he is an empath like me. But because he forced himself to synchronize with my emotions, to help me get through them. He isn't innately empathic like me. He built in his empathy, while I've always been trying to diminish mine." Aya clenched his fists, his jaw, his heart. "I'm so _weak_. This child was going out of his way to feel my pain, and I was doing everything under my power to ignore his..." 

  
"You think... you think that's why he tried to kill himself? Because he couldn't handle it?" 

  
"Don't you see? That's what's wrong, that none of us even _have a clue_ why." 

  
Cold realization hit Yohji. His pancreas felt frigid and sweaty. (because pancreases often do. Pancreai? Whatever.) "Not even Ken knows..." Imbecile probably thought that Omi was extremely homophobic. That's not true, Omi couldn't have been _that_ delicate. Ken was just either extremely paranoid or extremely dense. Or both. _Because, seriously, Omi? Straight? As in, anything _but_ gay? In Omi lingo, information does not compute!_ There had to be a better reason -- not a good one, just a better one. And the guilt ate at them, because none of them even knew that something was wrong. 

  
After a while, Yohji declares, "I know why." 

  
"...Fool." 

  
"I know why you had to tell me about your empathy, I mean." 

  
Aya raised an eyebrow. "Enlighten me." 

  
How can you compare to a man who has nothing to lose? "Don't bullshit me. You know that all we have is each other. And, for some reason unbeknownst to even me, there's something only the two of us share." Ugh. But, since when did dependency feel so _not_ degrading? So concrete? 

  
Still, he didn't have to say it with so much certainty. "Fool," came Yohji's Not-So-New Nickname, part 2. 

  
"I don't know why you just have to deny it," Yohji said, almost petulantly, arms crossing over his chest. 

  
"Because I don't know how to confirm it." Which he just did, by the way. See, for all the things Aya knew, he was rather stupid. Nah, actually, "dense". Charmingly oblivious, to borrow Ken's phrase. 

  
"But then..." 

  
"I know." No words. (Because, really, Yohji and his words.) STUPID MAN. 

  
"So you know--" 

  
"Yeah, I feel it as well." A pause, the pregnant kind. "I mean, I feel that for you. Aside from the empathy." 

  
_Then streamers and confetti showered upon the two men, and along the sides materialized a chorus of angels, bursting into a powerful romantic ballad._ ...No, not quite. 

  
Pro Hac Vice. (For this occasion only.) 

  
That'll do, Aya, that'll do. Okay, so it wasn't exactly the most profound or enlightening declaration, but it would have to do. (For now.) Anything more divulging would've been equivalent to meaningless drivel. "Can you feel Omi? Or Ken? Do you know if everything will turn out okay for the four of us?" Yohji asked, even while thinking he was abandoning all and what little respect Aya might have previously owned for him, with one blindingly hopeful question. Trading it for the relationship he already had, but just recently established. 

  
"I'm an empath, Yohji, not a gypsy." Would've been cuter otherwise. Screw the details. But it was in the expected list of answers, just not in those exact words. 

  
"So you don't know what'll happen to us?" 

  
"No, Yohji, I have no idea." 

  
"Not even what'll happen between us?" _You and me?_

  
"You tell me." 

  
And Yohji would've been glad to, of course. He wanted to say so many things to Aya, let him understand everything. Naturally, Aya knew anyway. Aya just knows these things, out of habit. 

  


* * *

  


_[[ Have I mentioned _strange_? ^_^ I dunno, I've always wanted to write an AxY with this "dark comedy" sarcastic atmosphere. At least I tried. ^_^' And that's out of the way. Phew. Ken will be back where he left off. It's officially summer in this side of the world so I'm back to being able to do whatever the heck I want. ^_^ ]]_


	10. need you more than ever

9: _And I need you more than ever..._

  


  


  
_Dying means sleep. Muddy sleep, winking for all eternity. Dying meant dissipation. Giving into the things that screwed up your life. This, on the other hand, means thinking you are on the brink of disaster. And being so sadly mistaken. _

  
The discordant songs of the machine's wires make me want to die, over and over and over again. 

  
Inky blue eyes peered from ridiculously long lashes. 

  
Omi was awake. 

  
"...Where...?" he mused distantly. 

  
I heard destruction from far away. I turned idly, seeing Yohji's hand buried in the wall. 

  
"Yohji!" Omi choked. 

  
"Shit. Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, I just..." Aya helped Yohji dislodge his fist from its inanimate captor. "It's just all this, all these..." 

  
"We'll get someone to look at that," Aya stated simply, leading Yohji out of the room. 

  
Bastards. 

  
Silence came, not exactly gently. There was a suffocating _nothingness_ between me and Omi, leaving no space for us to breathe. Only a staggering sequence of fear and anger. 

  
He knew, I'm certain he did. He knew that when he slashed his wrists, he was tearing into _my_ skin as well. He was doing that in revenge. Trying to steal my right to breathe and think and live by trying to take his life away. 

  
"Do you want me to go, too? Do you want to be alone?" 

  
It sounded much harsher than I had intended, than I had meant. But if there's one thing I've ever learned in this lifetime, because it may as well have been ingrained in my mind as a religious catechism, it's that there's no way you can take anything back. It's out of your hands. "No, please. Please, I need to talk to you," he murmured. 

  
I granted time for more ruthless silence, until my curiosity got the best of me. "Do you hate me?" 

  
"H-huh? No, no, I--" 

  
"Then why? Why did you... try to kill yourself?!" 

  
His eyes widened. _Yes, Omi, we know._ "Ken..." a frightened sob escaped his throat. 

  
"I didn't mean to. Shit." I sighed frustratedly. I should've taken it all out on Yohji. But there was no way I could have anticipated what I'd feel when I was faced with Omi. No way to prepare myself, or anyone around me. "It's just too hard, I don't know how to deal with this..." 

  
"I don't, either, but please don't hate me for this..." He looked up, finding me clawing at my skin. "Ken...?" 

  
"It's all so tiring." All I wanted was to crawl beside him, put my head on his lap and let him brush my hair from my face with his small, perfect hands. Without having to imagine the cuts that scream so brutally beneath them. 

  
"I know you hate me right now. You and Aya and Yohji. And I'm sorry, I'm sorry for being so weak..." 

  
"Why did you do it, Omi? Did you do it to make me suffer?" 

  
He seemed shocked, as if he didn't know that being threatened by his loss wouldn't destroy me. Bastard. "I didn't--" 

  
I held the metal bars enclosing his bed until my knuckles paled into a more colorless shade of white. "You mean you didn't realize that it would affect us? I can barely recognize Aya anymore, thanks to what you put him through. Yohji has gone through more personalities than he has gone through women. And I'm not doing too great myself. I'm... I..." _I_ should not be the one here. The kid is suicidal, and I'm laying on the guilt trip. That doesn't exactly qualify me for Guidance Counselor of the Month. "You have to tell me what made you do that, Omi. Please, it's... It's undoing me, and I could just fall apart," I whispered. 

  
"I'm sorry, I'm so, so... sorry..." 

  
"Why, Omi? Tell me, please..." 

  
It's hard to brace yourself for something you knew could turn the whole world upside down and inside out. 

  
"When I felt you kiss me..." His voice cracked, effectively imitating my heart. I could almost hear the world crumbling, a shaky tremor of blue and green, trying to balance itself on its nebular pedestal. "...it reminded me so much of Ouka." 

  
Times like these, it hurts your heart to breathe. 

  
"It felt so similar. Not physically, but it touched the same something inside me. It made me want to believe in everything you said, it made me want to forgive you anything, and to protect you from whatever I could. It made me want to never lose you..." The tears came in rivulets, with drops clinging onto his dark gold lashes. "It made me remember my curse..." His lifted his tear-studded eyes to meet mine, eviscerating me with his pain and filling me with it. _Is this what he feels, then, when he tries to do everything to console us, every time we need him to?_

  
"What curse?" I asked, my voice husky by the way my heart was stuck in my throat. 

  
"I'm haunted, Ken. Haunted by the lives I cherished..." He broke down, his thin frame shuddering with wracks of lament. I was immediately by his side, despite the restraining order I had put on myself. He instinctively curled into me, both of us knowing by heart how flawlessly our bodies weaved into each other. 

  
"What do you mean?" 

  
"Of course you don't see... Oh, Ken..." He buried his face in my neck, but it was almost as if his hands were pushing me away. _No, not pushing me away, but pushing himself away from me..._ Just by holding him I could feel the inner-conflict he had nourished in himself. "I'm a killer, Ken, and this is the only retribution I deserve. The people I love most will be taken away from me, just like the lives I take." 

  
"You idiot. You little idiot!" I held him closer, giving him no chance to struggle against me. "People don't die because they're making up for your sins, they just... die." The gravity of the situation left little room for articulation. I couldn't focus on what I was saying, on as much as what I wanted him to hear. "It has nothing to do with us!" 

  
"No, it has nothing to do with you or Aya or Yohji. She died because of _me_. You... You'll be gone to, because--" 

  
I've always wondered how and admired the way he freed himself from the disillusionment amidst the human race eternally dying, at times, even at our own hands. But then, what finally broke him was _how much he cared_ for someone. ...For me. 

  
I shook him, literally shook him. Grabbed him by his shoulders and fiercely swayed his slim body. "I will not die because you care for me. If anything, I'd only die if you _didn't_." 

  
He saw the vehement sincerity in my eyes, I could tell. He looked so burdened from having to explain his catastrophic identity to me. "You don't understand! You think you do, because we all go through these moral crises on occasion, but we're not the same. You weren't programmed for this kind of life... Ken, my existence in itself is a sin. I bring pain everywhere I go and to everyone I meet. And I pay for it by losing all the people that I..." 

  
_Did we help you feel this way? Was it our fault, for making you think that you brought about the pain that we made you deal with? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I couldn't handle it myself, I'm sorry I needed to tell you..._

  
"You stop that, stop that bull shit right now." 

  
"But-!" 

  
"What you don't consider is the fact that so many people need you in their lives! Don't you get it? Don't you see it in me and in Aya and in Yohji?" I let my head fall on his shoulder, ignoring the way my neck had to make an extraordinary reach just to do so. I didn't know what to say, I wouldn't know how to say it if I did. "You can't be so irresponsible, because you... it's not just you who would be affected in pulling stunts like these." 

  
"But you'd get over it, too, all of you will. It'd be nothing compared to what might happen to you if I cast my doom on you." 

  
"Cast your doom on us?! Omi -- please don't get insulted -- but I almost want to laugh at that. Will you listen to yourself? I mean, aside from it sounding like you ripped it out of a poorly-written movie." I held him in arm's length, making sure he saw my eyes. "You're just afraid, that's what you are. You're no bringer of death, not unintentionally, anyway. You're just scared to be alone." 

  
Omi's eyebrows met in a tremulous second. 

  
"And that's fine. Everyone's scared shitless of that, and the reality of loneliness... you probably know it better than half the people in this planet. You've went through a lot, and nothing is scarier than being alone. But... listen, I can't stay with you forever, but I'll never abandon you, Omi. I wouldn't even be able to." I'm so not eloquent it could be a super power. 

  
"I never said you would..." 

  
"But that's what terrifies you. And it terrifies me too, the thought of losing you. So please, if you care for me. Don't ever. Ever again." 

  
One of his hands wrapped itself around mine. Timidly, contritely. "You're not angry anymore?" 

  
"I would be, if you ever tried to do that again." I squeezed his hand, as if to verify the life in them. "Please, no more of this? Will you just forget that 'casting your doom upon us all' shit? Please?" 

  
He bowed his head, a slight blush on his cheeks. Possibly out of embarrassment, I really couldn't tell. "I'm sorry." 

  
"No more of it?" 

  
"No more." 

  
"You promise?" 

  
"Yes, I promise." 

  
We were both tired (even if 'depleted' was a better word), and I was more than a little satisfied with the kind of silence ascendant now -- it was a rather accepting one. Still, I didn't take it against Omi when he decided to disturb the tranquility. "K-- uh. Ken, why'd you kiss me?" I just, sort of, panicked my way into a frenzy. I almost missed the effulgent pink that nearly his whole face was being doused in. 

  
"Oh, yeah that." _Oh, yeah._ Great, now my inner voices are mocking me. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to be romantic or I dunno... You know, not like, it seemed, but, uh -- I just really wanted you to think about what you were saying. You really were being ridiculous then, you know? Well, anyway, I don't think about you that way, don't worry. I'm sorry that it... it was the first thing I thought of. It didn't mean anything, though. I mean... Yeah. Sorry." I think I wanted to cut off my damn blasphemous tongue, either for (a) its heinous lie or (b) how unconvincing it was. 

  
But dear, sweet Omi. Taking what I said in face-value, simply because his trustworthy friend said it. "You don't have to apologize. It does explain everything. I think." He offered me a brittle smile, obviously still spent from everything that had happened. I smiled back, hoping it was close enough to the real thing. "I thought... Ah, never mind." 

  
"You thought what?" I raised my eyebrow at his soft, thoughtful smile. 

  
Before he could generate a response, Aya walked in, with an unreadable glare. "Aya!" Omi voiced his refreshed characteristic enthusiasm. Yohji appeared as well, in slower strides than Aya, as if wary to come in. "Yohji! Aya--!" 

  
"You self-serving son of a bitch!" Aya nearly shouted. 

  
I didn't see Omi's reaction, and I didn't have to. I set myself between him and Aya, ready to prevent Aya from advancing any further. "Aya, what are you doing?" I asked, a hint of danger in my voice. 

  
"You selfish little brat. If you ever try to do that again--" He pushed me aside, and his other hand reaching out to Omi, making the younger boy fidget in terror. "I'll kill you myself!" Omi gasped when Aya's arms came loosely around him, in what could indistinctly be mistaken for a hug. Except, Aya doesn't normally hug people. "What would we have done... if you had succeeded...?" It actually did start to look more and more like an embrace, to my surprise. I turned to Yohji, who seemed close to approving of the scene, and merely waiting for his turn to let Omi know how much he meant to all of us. 

  
Above anything, Aya's question perturbed me, rather than the show of affection he just extended. What if Omi did die? And supposedly in my place, no less? What a mistake it would have been, my life for his. 

  
I didn't want to think about it. All I wanted to do was to wait for Omi to get better. Which I ended up doing, of course. When he was released by the hospital and allowed to come back to the Koneko, his gashes thoroughly healed, I realized I was still waiting. 

  


* * *

  


_[[ I know it's far too late to be self-conscious about this fic, but I still sorta am. I really didn't want to continue this, (I didn't know how) but I wanted to see more Ken/Omi existing... Even if it were my own. ^_^' What can I say, I'm a very protective shipper. I'd like to convince myself that it's not dying. ^_^ ]]_


	11. we'll be holding on forever

10: _And if you only hold me tight, we'll be holding on forever..._

  


  


  
I caught him one night, one hand brimful with more pills than I've ever seen him take. He had never resorted to medicinal solutions before, not for headaches or colds or anything else that might prompt the need for them. "What's that for?" 

  
He dry-swallowed an army of them right before answering, "Don't worry, they were prescribed. This is the least they could do, since therapy was out of the question." 

  
"I don't think you were meant to take so much." 

  
"There aren't any long-term side effects or anything grave if I overdose, I looked it up." He smiled. "I want to live. Living means more than surviving." 

  
I picked up the bottle, examining it, as if it would reassure his safety. "Norepinephrine... Serotonin..." 

  
Omi shrugged, sighing. "My body can't seem to perceive the 'anti' part of anti-depressant." 

  
I sat down beside him, taking great care not to begin tempting myself to touch him again. "Maybe you were meant to do it the natural way, then, like you used to. Like we did, together. Sometimes." 

  
He seemed to have found nothing worthy to reply with, hesitating before responding. "I'm sorry, Ken. Am I bringing you down?" he asked with a frail smile. 

  
"Kind of." I ran my hand through my hair, feeling slightly conscious about my movements. Because if not, my hands might find their way all over him again. "You're still turning to other things when you need something. Haven't we-- I mean. Damn it. It took us so long to build what we had. Can't we... go back to that? What do you want from me? What else?" 

  
If these drugs were doing anything to make him happy, he was a doing a miraculous job of hiding it. "I don't know what I want! I don't... I don't need anything else from you, you're everything already..." 

  
His eyes seemed to glaze after that, his voice fading away. "Omi?" 

  
"It's all wonderful, a wonderful wonderland! Full of..." 

  
"...Wonder?" 

  
"Yes, Ken! Yes! That's what the world should be, a wonderland." He glanced up at me, with a smile that empowered me to protect him, with a smile that weakened me and stripped me of all my strength. "Where the butterflies can't be harmed, and the tulips are free, where the dandelions are floating always and forever. And they all love each other, but none of them ever get hurt. There's nothing to fear in this garden of steel." 

  
Narcotics were speaking through my friend's lips. I tried not to shudder. "Omi. Are you really happy now?" 

  
"Very much so, thank you for asking. I feel like... Like snowflakes would feel, in the very beginning of winter. And I am descending and descending and descending and never landing, swaying with the lovely breeze atop these children waiting for me to grace the tips of their nose..." 

  
"I mean, are you _really_ happy? Meaning you'll still be happy, even after that drug wears off?" 

  
He giggled, a lofty, lost sound. "I still have so many bottles left, silly. And it will never end. I'll continue sinking in the soft snow, my endless and frayed white blanket, unfurling where the roses bloom beneath it..." 

  
I took his shoulder in my hand, the pressure of my grip as intense as my stare. "You don't need those pills, Omi, believe me. Trust me. You can do this natural way, and I can help, if only you'd _let_ me!" 

  
"N-no. You. My wonderland! My wonderland, it's... disappearing! I want it back--" 

  
I used the hand I had put on his shoulder to grab his elbow, preventing him from taking the bottle on his table. "Omi, listen to me. Please, ssh, just calm down. Stop. You don't need that. You need--" 

  
"I do need it! I need those short moments of not caring. I just want to stop thinking about it all!" 

  
"You want to stop... caring? About everything? Aya, Youji and me? Ouka?" 

  
Omi stood rigidly, mouth agape, as if horrified with himself. "No, never!" And after a while, "Yes." He all but fell on my chest, leaning his head partly on my shoulders. "Ken," he murmured, as if pointing out that the sky was blue. 

  
I put one hand around him by bridled instinct, a ghost of a touch when compared to the comfort I was usually all too happy to offer. He seemed to notice it, too, that while I was holding him like I meant it, I was holding him like I had meant to solace him otherwise. "Ken? Why are you touching me like that?" 

  
"Like what?" _Like I'm in love with you and I've been hiding it for all my past lifetimes?_

  
"Like... you're scared of me." He lifted himself from the warmth we shared, his eyes accusing me. "That's it, isn't it? I frighten you. I'm a lunatic, I've been driven mad, and I frighten my friends!" 

  
"Yes, it frightens me! It frightens me that you have to make use of these anti-depressants, instead of just... Just..." 

  
"Just what?! I'm sorry if I'm not like you, Ken, if I can't simply nod along and smile at everything that comes my way! I'm sorry if I tried too hard to be like you, but found out I was too in touch with reality to do that. I'm sure it would be nice to live in utter simplicity, and I'm flattered that you're still trying to recruit me in your little organization of ignorance." It wasn't even insulting, really. It was just the fact that _he_ said it. 

  
He saw me, swallowing heavily and trying to restrain my emotions. "Oh... Oh, Ken. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me! I didn't mean that, I really didn't!" 

  
"I know." For the most part, I guess. 

  
He was near me again -- instinctively, of course -- curving around me for support. "What's wrong with me? I'm so sick. I get sicker, more wrong... I'll try to let go of it all, I really will. I'll give up my wonderland for you." 

  
"Thank you." I calmly put a hand on his head, lightly stroking him, having never needed so much to be calm before. I hoped he wouldn't object to me minimizing the contact we've gotten so comfortable with, and I was pretty much praying that he wouldn't ask why. 

  
"I'm sorry, Ken, I'm _so_ sorry. Please forgive me, I'm just so... I get so crazy sometimes and I--" 

  
"Ssh, it's okay, you keep me sane." 

* * *

Yohji was laughing at the sight of Omi in what could best be described as a disproportionate tanktop. Thin layers of perspiration coated his forehead and the skin beneath his eyes, and his bangs were making a big commotion -- that is, more so than usual. "Omi, how can you be sweating in this weather?" 

  
"It's a side-effect of the anti-depressant," he explained. "And besides, the snow's melting." 

  
"I thought you said you weren't going to take those anymore," Yohji said. 

  
"I am. Well, gradually. It's dangerous if I just stop it altogether." Omi licked the third ice cream he had purchased within a span of ten minutes. And, much to my libido's dismay, his tongue decided to operate in its painfully methodic way. And no, it was not helpful the way Yohji was leering at me in apparent amusement, knowing fully well how the picture of Omi's tongue caressing something was providing my inner turmoil. "My head aches. And so does my back," he complained mildly. 

  
There was now a palpable tension in the air, and I'm sure it wasn't brought about by my imagination. Every single person in that room -- Yohji, Aya, Omi and myself -- knew that I would've normally be behind him in an instant, ready to knead the tightened muscles on his back. 

  
I was staying put, and the silence was practically imploring me to go by tradition, if nothing else. 

  
Thankfully (or so I thought for one nanosecond of my life), Yohji made his way to the boy, placing his hands over Omi's mostly bare shoulders. "Must be brain freeze from all the gallons of ice cream you've shoveled into that bottomless pit of a stomach. Really, if I didn't think you liked deserts before..." 

  
Omi, sensitive back and all, moaned in gratitude, muttering a less grateful, "Shut up, Yohji." 

  
The older blond laughed and noticed me watching them. All the while, of course, I was thinking that _I will not glare at Yohji, I will not glare at Yohji, I will not glare at Yohji..._ "Now, Omi, if I didn't know better, that almost sounded like you were trying to seduce me." 

  
"What?!" Both Omi and I reacted to what should have been just another one of those Yohji-isms. The difference being, Omi's reaction was more flustered, while mine was closer to enraged. "I've never seen anyone more perverted than you," I said, sounding disgusted. "Geez, Yohji, he's Omi. You _know_ better." The message was technically correct, just misleading as hell. 

  
"Yohji's in love with someone," said... Aya. 

  
Yep. _Aya_ had just disclosed that little piece of information. 

  
The three of us turned to him, similar amounts of shock, for similar reasons. Possibly not so similar in Yohji's case. "Yohji's in love with someone?" Omi tried out the words himself, but it still sounded wrong. 

  
"What--?!" Yohji barked. 

  
"Why didn't you tell us? Who is it, who is it?" Omi turned to Yohji, excited to try and extract an answer from the older blond. 

  
"Yeah, who is She Who Does Not Know What She Is Doing? Or _who_ she's doing, actually?" I had to admit, I was curious. 

  
Yohji did not seem amused. "Shut up, all of--" 

  
Aya cleared his throat. "Wrong pronoun, Ken." 

  
"_Aya!!_" 

  
"You mean... A guy? Really? Yohji, I thought you only liked women older than eighteen!" Omi laughed, looking quite intrigued. "So, you have a 'boyfriend'? Do we get to meet him, huh, Yohji?" 

  
"Shut up! Fuck you, Aya, you're not Schuldig--" 

  
"Thank God," Omi piped up. 

  
"--or something, so it's not like you can read minds. All you can do is-- Anyway!" _All he could do is what?_ "How dare you accuse me of this slander!" 

  
Aya was on the verge of a very, very smug grin. The muscles on his face were practically jumping because of the restraint. "I'm sorry, maybe I misunderstood. So, what exactly did you mean in saying you are infatuated with me?" 

  
Needless to say, three pairs of eyes widened considerably. 

  
"You--! _LIAR!!_" 

  
"Please. Why would I want to fabricate a tale like-- What?!" As if those two couldn't act more like _they_ were on drugs, Yohji yanked Aya out of the shop, practically _carrying_ him out. As he slammed the door behind him, Yohji could be heard screeching shrilly about besmirching his masculinity and so on and so forth. 

  
Leaving me, of course, alone with Omi. 

  
Which explains the whole spectacle. Yohji probably sensed the strain I put in the midst of us. I was pretty sure that he felt he could perform some good-meaning intervention and make it look like he wasn't interfering. It didn't fully explain why Aya had gone along with it -- or why, come to think of it, he initiated it in the first place. Does that mean even Aya, lovable-but-with-the-emotional-intelligence-of-a-popsicle Aya, could see what was going on? 

  
"What... was that all about?" Omi wondered. With good reason. 

  
I shook my head. "Yohji, and this inherent insatiable hunger to meddle with other people's affairs. He just wants to leave us together because... he thinks there's some problem we have to resolve together, which there obviously isn't. I don't know, he's such a freak." 

  
From his corner of the room, Omi bit his lip. "Are you sure?" 

  
"Am I sure he's a freak? Positive. Want some proof?" I said with a smile, to assuage the words. 

  
"No, I mean. Are you sure that we have nothing to resolve?" 

  
"Omi... Why would you think that?" Because I let him. (Or was that a rhetorical question?) 

  
He sighed into the cone he was holding, nibbling at it insecurely. "I don't know, maybe I'm just paranoid. It just seemed like you never want to be alone with me nowadays. I thought you were mad at me, because you never... We don't... You know." 

  
I laughed, and it almost hurt my ribcage. Somewhere in that region, possibly a bit higher and closer to my chest. "You really are being paranoid. I saw that in your research about the drug. I also read all these other terminologies, but I never could pay attention to words with more than four syllables. Anyway, it's all in your mind. We're okay." 

  
"We're okay?" he repeated tentatively, words slapped carelessly together. 

  
It was getting decadently easier to lie. You can never tell if that's a good thing, or a bad thing. 

  
"We're okay." 

  


* * *

  


_[[ Wow. Amazingly, I've only recently realized that this thing has no plot. Believe it or not, it just struck me now. -_- But, hey, we've gone this far. You might as well humor me and read the final one or two chapters, right? ^_~ Those are coming shortly, I promise. ]]_


	12. making it right

11: _And we'll only be making it right, 'cause we'll never be wrong..._

  


  


  
"Give me a break!" I slammed my palms on the table, causing some of the maps and papers to jump in surprise. "When are you two going to get off my back?!" 

  
"When you tell us what's going on or when you fix it, whichever comes first!" Yohji snapped back, looking equally pissed off as I was. He turned to Aya for support, but the red-haired man was too busy glowering at me to offer much else. "Ken, you're endangering us. Don't you get it?! Whatever's going on, it's not just between you and Omi, it also affects--" 

  
"Nothing's going on! Okay, big deal, I didn't report to him. That doesn't mean--" 

  
"'Big deal'?" It was Aya's turn to scold me. _Great. They're tag-teaming now._ "We didn't know what the hell was going through your head. We didn't know where you were or what you were planning to do," Aya said very slowly, through gritted teeth. 

  
"The goddamn targets are dead and none of us got hurt, what more do you want?!" 

  
"Some answers, for one thing!" Yohji drove his hands through his hair, looking just about ready to tear it off. "We told you to contact Omi before going after the last target. God, we're only so lucky that we came out of that chaos alive. 'Clockwork?' What the hell's wrong with you?! Thanks to you, we were practically running around the damn base like chickens with our heads cut off. Omi was driving himself insane waiting for your call." 

  
"Oh for crying out loud, it's as if I've never acted on impulse before. You're reading so many things into that one incident." 

  
"Do you think we're as stupid as you are?" Yohji sighed. It was an exaggerated display of long-suffering martyrdom, as well as an unsuccessful attempt to calm himself down. "Do you think we don't sense how awkward it's been between you two? You don't talk to him unless it's to answer a question. You don't greet him unless he does it first. Hell, you guys used to hang all over each other like two lesbians madly in love." (Later I would ask Yohji what he meant by this unconventional simile, but I don't find it appropriate to repeat his explanations now.) 

  
"I... Shit! Leave me alone!" I was irritated. I didn't realize I was _that_ obvious. 

  
Yohji shook his head wearily. "I give up," he announced. "I don't know what's wrong with them." 

  
"Seeing as we're dealing with Ken here, we may find the classic explanation reliable -- the case of The Idiots," Aya muttered. 

  
I mulled over his deduction for a while. "You know, I'm standing _right here_." 

  
"You're right," Yohji said, joining Aya in completely ignoring me. "I tried talking to the kid about it, but Omi seems even more clueless as to why Ken's being more of an idiot than usual. Omi can see it -- hell, the flower shop fan club can see it -- but he really has no idea why." I saw Yohji's fingers crawling inside his pockets, digging for something to relieve his stress. "He's obviously distraught. He admitted to me that he keeps thinking about it. I bet he's including it in his report as we speak." 

  
Aya's glare seemed to have faded into a look of interest. Operative word being "seemed". "He talks to you about it?" 

  
"Considering the person he'd normally talk to is making himself unavailable." Yohji lit his cigarette before adding, "Isn't that right, Ken?" 

  
"No use asking him questions. All you get are worthless answers," Aya cut in before I could get a word out. 

  
I still couldn't believe they were discussing this right in front of me. "I'm still _right here_," I grumbled. 

  
"It's not like you really listen." Aya's purple gaze was scathing, and I was too tired to contest glares with him. Aside from the fact that I was no match for Aya in that department, I also no longer felt the desire to defend myself against any of them. 

  
When Yohji and I were on flower shop duty the next day, he decided not to bother me with 20 questions unanswerable by yes or no. He did comment offhandedly about how sleepless I looked, and how that may be costly in a business like ours. I reminded him that we were florists, but he insisted that we were more like botanically-inclined male whores in aprons. 

  
Unfortunately my grip slipped on the water can I was holding upon hearing Yohji's preferred name for our profession. It resulted with a pair of cherished shoes doused in water. "Ken, you klutz," Yohji groaned, looking forlornly at his leather footwear. 

  
"I prefer 'accident prone' myself," I replied, feeling testy. "And don't think I've forgotten that fertilizer incident with you and Aya. It's about time the cosmos got your karma into circulation again. Where're Aya and Omi, anyway? I felt like I've been on this shift for half my life." 

  
"How should I know where Aya is? He's in Aya Universe doing Aya Doings under the Sacred Law of Aya." Yohji looked like he was about to further expound on his non-knowledge of the Aya's whereabouts, but he seemed to have remembered my complete question. "And Omi's in school. ...Duh." 

  
I chose to ignore that extremely teenage expression that managed to find their way out Yohji's lips. "What are you talking about? Cram school should've been over hours ago." 

  
Yohji leered outside the shop and I followed his gaze, even though I've learned through experience that doing so isn't always such a great idea, nor does it always emerge as a non-traumatic experience. "Ah. Impeccable timing as always. And it answers questions, doesn't it?" 

  
Just outside the shop, Omi was standing in too-close proximity of someone who looked like a schoolmate. The boy was taller than Omi, not unusual, with dark hair and wide-rimmed glasses. 

  
_How dare that... that four-eyed monster! They can't be more than friends, right? There's no way!_ Because I can bet that the boy probably never risked _his_ life to save Omi's. _He_ probably hasn't been in love with Omi since the day he met him, which, by now, feels like it's the truest thing I remember from the past. And _he_ -- hold on for some old-fashioned Stating the Mind-Blowingly Obvious -- was not _me_. 

  
But... I don't even have the right to be jealous of that guy, do I? I don't even have the guts to tell Omi how I really feel. I'm too afraid it would harm us both. Me, most of all. 

  
Omi greeted Yohji and me with a tired grin. "Who was that?" I fairly demanded of him. I hoped I sounded more like a curious and/or protective friend rather than a jealous (aspiring) boyfriend. 

  
Omi blinked, apparently surprised by my question. Things have changed so much. Me starting a conversation between us was probably the last thing he expected... I could honestly say that guilt had only struck me then. I was so preoccupied with my own pain that I hadn't, for one second, even seen that what I was doing was hurting Omi, too. It was just like seeing the blood of victims on my hands -- seeing the silvered aqua of his eyes wobble sentimentally as they look at me. "That was Arima," he said softly. "He's tutoring me." 

  
"Tutoring you?!" I nearly shrieked. I couldn't help it -- that answer deserved no less than an incredulous -- if not less-than-manly -- reaction. "Since when did you need tutoring?" 

  
"I--" Omi turned away, incompletely enough to reveal the pink staining his cheeks. "Um... I'll tell you after I get changed, okay? I--I'll be right back." 

  
I was about to reach out for him and tell him of my long-term plans to render myself bed-ridden. All I wanted was to go to my room and lay my head on the pillow for the rest of my life. And as my arm reached out to grab his shoulder, it simply fell short. Even after he left, I kept my arm in mid-air, in mid-reach. All I could do was gape at it for a while. 

  
I recalled what was probably the last time I was reluctant to touch Omi... Might've been a little over a year ago, when Omi didn't know how to ride a motorcycle yet. I decided to give him a ride before teaching him, to let him know how it felt. Okay, so maybe at that time I simply wanted to show off. From the very first day we met, I enjoyed the attention from his charming set of admiring eyes and how he gushed shamelessly over the little things you could impress him with. I had planned to give him an exciting, exhilarating ride to dazzle him a little bit, which made it necessary for me to ask him to hold onto me. I stumbled over it somewhat, but I was able to ask him to put his arms around me. He was awkward and I was uncomfortable at the beginning, but we both ended up enjoying it, even if I got out of it with considerably crushed ribs, via Omi's holding onto me for dear life. I didn't realize it then, but having him cling to me like that... was probably what made the ride exhilarating. 

  
I found myself telling Yohji that I was retiring vase-involved duties forever and ever amen. I was headed to my room as he said, "Don't you want to know why Omi's being tutored?" 

  
"I'm sure you'd love to tell me when you find out," I muttered, already despising the thought of Omi and Yohji's growing friendship. Fact: There was a time, pre-Aya, when the two of them hadn't even gotten along and needed me to have something in common. _Take that, Yohji_. 

  
"It's because the teachers can sense him not paying attention in class, and that something's obviously distracting him from his studies. A good student like Omi, you can't afford to have his record blemished just because of a little teenage problem now, can you?" 

  
I rolled my eyes. "What are you talking about? What problem?" 

  
"Just that he's losing his best friend," Yohji said, matter-of-factly. "He's got no one to cling to, that's all. He's so needy, don't you think?" 

  
I continued up to my room, my heart now hurting worse than my head. I thought it would explode when my eyes eventually swiveled over to the shut door of Omi's apartment. My feet were weeping, wanting to lead me there, to at least tell Omi how tired I was, and not just disappear on him. Maybe it could soften the apparent blow. 

  
But I went directly to my room, locking the door behind me. 

* * *

I tried rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and whatever delusions they may be causing. Because, there is no way in hell that there actually _is_ an arrangement of yellow gerberas in my beside. I do not bring flowers into my room, so unless these are the Evil Walking Gerberas of Doom there is not a single thinkable excuse for their presence. 

  
Nobody who has access to my room has tendencies to drop by to deliver me flowers. Not that Aya and Yohji would have been suspects to begin with, despite the series of crap they've been flinging my way. I gave them earfuls on how I could deal with my own little crises and how I did not appreciate their attempt to interfere. I was further annoyed by the significant looks they shared between themselves, as if holding a private conversation about my instability or something. (I was beginning to eerily wonder what was going on between the two of them, and of their public camaraderie. But... let's just say I have things less goosebump-inducing things to think about.) Anyway, I find it hard to believe that my wonderful display of immaturity could warrant this bewildering peace offering. 

  
Instead of playing mental detective, I finally decided to notice the note on the vase. Unwilling to do anything that might've distorted the arrangement, I picked up the vase in order to get a closer look at the note. 

  
'_I'm really sorry. Can you forgive me?_' My whole face flinched, seeing the signature at the lower right corner of the small card. The door flew open nearly the same time that the vase met the floor in a resonant shatter. 

  
"Ken!" 

  
I was surprised to see the depths of his eyes welling up in tears, and I was completely void of shock when it felt like the glimmering shards on the floor had jumped and dipped into my chest. "Omi, why..." 

  
"Do you hate me... that much?" 

  
"Wh-what?!" 

  
His eyes were dark, and he was obviously trying to hide them with his long bangs. "You really don't want to be friends anymore?" 

  
"Don't be an idiot! Omi, you're my best friend, you always will be!" I yelled at him, frustrated. Did he have to make this so hard? 

  
"Then why did you drop the flowers I gave you?" He stared, enrapt by the broken pieces of glass and the ruined-looking petals. "Are you still angry because of what I did?" 

  
"I'm not angry, Omi, it was an accident. I dropped them. Nothing's wrong." 

  
"Damn it, Ken!" My eyes widened involuntarily. I know, it was unnatural to be surprised by a teenage boy uttering a curse word. But, need I remind you, Omi could never be comfortably classified as an "average teenager". "Stop lying to me! Please, Ken! Please. We used to be best friends..." 

  
"What do you mean 'used to be'?! We still are! God, I hope we still are!" 

  
"Well, then, why..." he sighed, exasperated. "What's going on, then? Why are you doing this? It... it hurts so much, to be losing you, and being so helpless to do anything about it..." 

  
"You're not losing me." My own voice winced. 

  
"And I hate thinking that it's either because I changed, or because you've changed." Omi didn't stop looking at me with stormy blue eyes. "I always hoped that maybe I could ignore it, and things would go back to normal. But I couldn't ignore it, and things never went back to the way they used to be. And as tightly as I am holding onto it, it doesn't matter if you're simply trying to throw it away..." 

  
"No, Omi, please believe me. It's the last thing in the world that I _could_ give away." 

  
He shut his eyes tightly, and I feared the arrival of more tears. "But I can feel it! I know, you want to get rid of me. _You're going to abandon me_..." 

  
_You know, Yohji always mocks me about my insurmountable passion for soccer. He never understood the feelings behind it. The determination I had to win a game. The inspiration in knowing that it was the one thing I was good at. How it drove me to exceed my so-called limits. When I lost J-League, I felt empty. Devoid of purpose, and of life. _

  
It doesn't feel so different now. Only, if I felt empty then, it's coming back a hundredfold. It feels like whatever emptiness I had in me is further being wrung from me, and I'm completely losing who I am. I'm just a maddening non-existence to be throwing my love away. Without my passion for him, how much I care for him, and even how much I want him, I truly felt nothing. 

  
"I'll never leave you," I said, with stubbornness and firmness that surprised even me. "Unless you really want me to." 

  
He believed what I said, and knew that I meant it. "I don't ever want you to leave," he whispered. 

  
I don't know how much time had passed before he asked me quietly, "What are you looking at?" 

  
"Mm... The weather's perfect," I replied, not taking my eyes away from the window. 

  
I heard Omi shuffling his feet on the floor. "Oh. It's okay. It's a little bit chilly, though." There was a short pause, as if he were expecting me to reply or something. "But I guess that's fine, right? I mean, if it were sunshine all year, then this place would be a desert." 

  
I chuckled a bit at that. "That's true." I turn to him, offering, if anything, a genuine smile. "I'm really sorry I hurt you. Please don't ask me what was happening or why it happened, it's over now." Omi complied with my request, with trusting eyes that held a faint hint of frustration. "I was just going through something. I'm over it now, really." 

  
His eyes softened, his face gently relaxing into a smile of his own. _He's gorgeous..._ "Alright. Even best friends don't have to tell each other everything, I suppose." His wink added silently, "at least not until they're ready to." 

  
"Is there anything I can do, though? To make up for it, or prove it won't happen again?" Omi seemed to hesitate with an answer, so I put in, "Let me do it. It'll make me feel better." 

  
"Well... No, it's stupid." A blush rose to his cheeks like lava would before it exploded violently. 

  
"You're being stupid! Come on, what is it?" I prodded him. 

  
"It's just... It's just, I miss being held by you." The blush now made him look like he _was_ about to erupt, and he was practically glowing because of its intensity. "I mean, I know it's strange, but in your arms... It's just such a safe place, a warm place. That sounds weird, huh? And more than a little... I mean, but, really, when we're _touching_, I... I feel..." 

  
He continued to stammer even as I slowly approached him, my arms more than ready to receive him. He flung himself at me, and we were securely wrapped by each others' limbs. "Here," he murmured, half-muffled by my shoulder. "I like it here." 

  
I nodded in agreement. 

  


* * *

  


_[[ Yay! I still have to edit all the previous chapters because it never occured to me to do so, but still. There's no dampening the yayness. I can end it here, you know. ^_^ ]]_

  


  



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